Good Intentions
by Fortex
Summary: The war against Skynet is spreading, forward and backward through time. As the Connors scramble in the present, another element from the future is developing in a way no one on either side could have predicted.
1. Foreshadowing, What's that?

Scene 1: John's Perspective

Title: Echoes

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Terminator franchise other than this work. It is not intended for financial gain.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing something other than a one-shot. This chapter was originally intended to be longer. But it looks like the series is going to use plot devices similar to what I have in mind. I'm worried that will kill my desire to write this so I decided to post it sooner. Hopefully, having it posted will encourage me to finish it.

Chapter 1: Foreshadowing? What's that?

* * *

'I should have just gone home.' John thought for easily the tenth time that day. While slowly making his way through the crowded food court, he couldn't help but wonder:

How had his day turned out like this?

All he wanted was to spend some time out of the house, clear his head. Nothing too rebellious; lord knows he'd done far more reckless things. Despite his modest hopes, today had been a total bust. And by now he had a nice long lecture waiting for him at home. He really should have stayed home.

But home had become a very boring place.

It had been two months since they'd lost the Turk's trail. Two months without any new information. Two months spent running down every other lead, no matter unlikely they seemed. Two months without a shootout, a building to break into, or even a security guard to lie to. All in all, two months of relative peace.

And if it didn't end soon his mother was going right back into the nuthouse.

It turns out patience is not one of Sarah Connor's virtues. Granted, having the knowledge of the apocalypse hanging over your head would drive any normal person up the wall. Factor in her control issues…powder keg didn't do it justice.

Not having a target to work towards was really getting to her. At first she'd gotten by with checking all their supplies: guns, money, and first aid. Then she moved on to reexamining their contingency plans in case of: a) police officers, b) robots from the future, c) robots from the future pretending to be police officers, or d) police officers pretending to be robots from the future.

Some of her plans were just weird, even by Connor standards.

A week ago she decided to improve their (John's) eating habits. Yesterday, she started looking over his homework.

Maybe he could get the padded cell next to hers.

So a distraction, any distraction, sounded like a good idea. With no real plan, they'd gone to the mall. And when Morris suggested seeing a movie it seemed like a stroke of genius. Any random movie would do**.** He could kill a few hours not thinking about the coming apocalypse or overbearing mothers.

So naturally, the random movie had involved machines waging war against humanity.

Who says the universe doesn't have a sense of humor?

But 90 minutes of watching humans fight for survival wasn't the end of it. Morris, who apparently loved the whole series, wouldn't shut up about it. He'd refused to shut up about it for the past half hour.

Taking his seat, John's eyes drifted to his cyborg protector. What had she thought of the movie? She'd probably give him a full list of tactical errors when they got home. He hoped she'd wait till they got home.

He also hoped Morris was done talking about that damn movie.

"I still can't believe you've never seen it before." Morris shook his head. "You guys are so lucky this theatre brought it back."

Could you buy aspirin in a food court?

Morris grinned at them, oblivious to John's annoyance. "So what did you guys think? Awesome, right?"

John just shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't cared for the movie and he certainly didn't want to talk about it. But Morris' attention, like usual, was directed at Cameron.

Cameron, whose attention was focused on the sea of potential threats. No one could accuse a terminator of not taking their job seriously.

"Cam?" John gently prompted.

Cameron halted her scan of the immediate area to glance briefly at Morris.

"The ending is sad," was the soft, matter-of-fact response. John would have grinned, typical Cameron. He would have grinned but she didn't return to her visual sweep. Instead, she turned to John and locked her eyes with his.

"The protagonist dies." She offered as an explanation. And she wasn't talking to Morris at all.

Silence. For the first time all afternoon. John shifted uneasily. Why did she keep staring at him like that? Why did he keep staring back? In the back of his mind he knew they were acting odd, knew it had gone on too long.

Even Morris seemed to sense… _something_ between them. "Ah…everything okay?"

"It's fine." John all but snapped at him.

John tried to ignore the sudden stab of guilt. His current mood wasn't Morris' fault. It didn't even have anything to do with that stupid movie, not really. Lately, it just felt like everything was catching up to him. Skynet, the Turk, his whole life, had him stressed out.

Genetics were a bitch.

John didn't want to take his frustration out on Morris. But hearing him talk about war as entertainment, reveling in the violence and destruction… Still, Morris was his friend and he couldn't just bail on him.

Morris gave a nervous laugh. "The ending was the best part! I mean… of course he dies. But it had everything… explosions, high body count, and that last fight scene!"

To hell with Morris.

They were leaving.

John looked for the closest exit, waiting for Cameron to let the conversation drop. She'd barely said a word all day. John suspected she'd only sat through the movie to stay close to him. Except she didn't let the conversation drop. Instead, as she often did, she tilted her head to the side and looked to John for an explanation.

John. Because Derek rarely spoke to her. Because Sarah just wanted her to obey.

Despite his growing headache, John wanted to help her understand. "Without the war he wouldn't have mattered. People don't want to see their heroes become ordinary. They'd rather see them die at their peak."

"Yes! Exactly," Morris nodded, "Your brother gets it."

"Thank you for explaining."

Morris shot John an exasperated look before stuffing more fries into his mouth.

It was as good an opportunity as any.

John glanced at Cameron, "We should head back." Grabbing his empty water bottle, John headed towards the nearest trashcan.

A panicked Morris barely swallowed before continuing, determined to enlighten his best friend's very attractive sister. How often were humans and machines locked in a struggle for survival? Well, not counting all those other movies.

"Besides, he had to die. He was practically their messiah. That's what they do." Morris smiled hopefully at the brunette.

Silence was Cameron's only response, her eyes never leaving John.

* * *

A/N: I bet everyone can guess which movie they saw. It's not important to the story I just wanted to use the parallels. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Particularly: the flow of the story, character portrayal, etc.


	2. Rack 'em up

Title: Echoes

Chapter 2: Rack 'em up

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Terminator franchise besides this work. It is not intended for profit.

Author's notes: This chapter almost feels like an extended prologue. Maybe because I rushed the first chapter. I hope to continue updating at about the same rate. I'll probably increase the rating of the story just to be safe.

* * *

Both of them didn't need to be here. Someone should have stayed behind. Leaving John alone with the machine; that kind of thinking was going to get him killed.

He could do this by himself. Surveillance. Recon. They were in his strike zone. If Sarah Connor had one weakness it was her complete lack of faith in others. She didn't trust anyone else's judgment.

Nevermind the fact that she just flat out didn't trust him.

He's not surprised. It doesn't even bother him, most of the time. But right now, it's all he can do to keep from screaming at her. Doesn't she see? He _gets_ it. This isn't the world he's used to. He's not going to solve every problem by shooting someone. He's not like the metal bitch. This is about intel. Why would he go off guns blazing?

Was a little faith in him too much to ask?

Funny, how John is so quick to trust. It reminded him of Kyle. Kyle would trust anyone. Even after the bombs fell, when scraps of food became worth killing over. And Kyle learned how to survive like everyone else. A part of him never changed.

Kyle was trusting to a fault.

General Connor doesn't have that weakness. But Derek never lets himself think about that… or what it means.

Glancing briefly at Sarah, he could see the tension building just below the surface. He knew this was killing her.

If there was one thing Derek Reese understood it was the need to just do _something_. After he lost Kyle, knowing he was in one of their death camps…knowing he couldn't do a damn thing about it. It didn't stop him from trying, everyday for six years.

Stubborn as he was, Derek was ready to admit they were just spinning their wheels. This lead was a long shot. They'd been watching it for a couple of weeks. By now, if they had the Turk, something would have happened.

Staring up at the building, he didn't bother to look at the company's logo. It was just one of a half dozen companies they'd been watching lately.

Another potential Skynet.

He watched as the janitorial crew packed it in for the night. He checked his watch. 11PM. At least they were consistent. Maybe they had someone waiting for them back home.

Derek looked back just as the security guard escorted them to the front door. The single, old, _unarmed_ guard locked the door behind himself before walking to his car. There was no way this company had the teeth to help end the world.

Not too long ago; he would have said the same thing about Billy Wisher.

10 minutes passed after both vehicles pulled out of sight.

They grabbed their gear and stepped out of the car.

* * *

John cursed. Sleeping had never come easily for him. But tonight was shaping up to be worse than normal. His mind just wouldn't shut off. Rolling over, he glared at his alarm clock.

1AM.

Finally abandoning all hope of sleep, he climbed out of bed. After grabbing a T-shirt he headed to the kitchen for a glass of water and maybe a sleeping pill.

Passing through the dining room he caught sight of his cyborg-protector pouring over newspapers. Once in the kitchen he began searching the cupboards. Unable to find a sleeping pill, he had to settle for a glass of water and walked back into the dining area.

Glass in hand, he watched as she looked through each newspaper with mechanical efficiency. The minutes rolled by and he tried to remember the last time she'd done this. She knew he was watching her, she had to.

Curiosity finally got the better of him. "Not patrolling tonight?"

Not that he'd noticed. Or that he paid attention to that kind of thing.

"Sarah requested I expand my monitoring of the media to include new technological developments."

Request. That was a nice way to put it.

"I see." A brief pause, "Done with the sports section?"

"I do not monitor the sports section."

"That was a joke."

Sitting down across from her, John began halfheartedly thumbing through the pile of discarded papers. Even discarded, the papers were neatly stacked and in perfect order. She'd gone so far as putting the unwanted sections back. Sometimes, her little machine quirks could be really cute.

Cute? Did he really just think that? At least he hadn't said it out loud. Now that would have been awkward. He could imagine how she'd react to that.

No. Not tonight. He had too much bouncing around his head already. If he started thinking about Cameron he'd never get to sleep.

John quickly pulled out a random section. The classifieds. Idly skimming the paper gave him a distraction. Not that he was really looking for anything. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even glanced at a newspaper. Too much time spent obsessing over the future made everything in the present seem sorta detached.

There was probably a lesson to be learned there.

"It is late. You should sleep." Cameron stated, her eyes never leaving the paper in her hands.

"Tried that," he stifled a yawn "Just got a lot on my mind."

After a few more minutes of listless searching, he abandoned the newspaper entirely. He glanced up at her to-

She was staring at him again.

"You are agitated." She continued to study him. "Is it because of yesterday's events?"

Yesterday? She must have meant the movie. It was past midnight. Technically, a new day.

"Hardly." He'd stopped thinking about that before they even got home. Sure, he'd been irritated but it was too stupid to lose sleep over.

"Is it because of Barbara Chamberlain?"

"No…I don't know." That had been on his mind a lot lately. It wasn't her death specifically, and how sad was that? What did that say about him? But…the terminator had lived with her. It pretended to be her _husband_.

"In the future circumstances often allow for little or no sleep. You prioritize resting whenever possible."

John tensed, "Is that right?"

"Yes." Cameron paused, "Did I say something wrong?"

Yes, he wanted to shout at her. The last thing John wanted to hear about tonight was _him_. The great, all-knowing General Connor. Sometimes just knowing he was out there was too much. And the way she talked about him…

"I'm just tired."

**

* * *

**

The next morning found an extremely frustrated Sarah Connor preparing breakfast. Her mood had less to do with lack of sleep than the complete lack of progress they had made the night before.

Hours of searching had only confirmed it. The company didn't have the resources or the connections to end the world. It wasn't even in the right league.

Derek hadn't bothered to actually say it. He hadn't said a word all night. Sarah was almost grateful.

Not that she'd ever admit it.

Any hope of finding the Turk was fading, if it wasn't already gone.

They needed to catch a break. Or at least cast a wider net. If the Turk had changed hands a lot of money had to be involved. Maybe one of their fences or suppliers had heard something.

The smell of burning pancakes caught her attention. Sighing in frustration, Sarah threw the now unsalvageable pancake in the trash. She then turned towards the hallway and shouted. "John! You're going to be late."

Almost instantly she heard footfalls coming from the hallway.

It was just the machine.

"Arriving at school promptly is not a priority. John has acquired less than 3.5 hours of sleep."

Insomnia? Three guesses which side of the family he got that from.

"We get by on less." Sarah snapped and then placed a cup of coffee on the table. "There. Liquid sleep."

Sarah watched the cyborg approach the table and stare blankly at the cup, obviously trying to interpret the words literally.

She rolled her eyes and was about to comment when the machine picked up the cup and walked to the kitchen counter. The tin miss then added a small, but no doubt inhumanly precise, amount of cream before returning to the table.

She didn't bother to look at Sarah, "John drinks coffee with cream, no sugar."

"Lemme guess, another heart-to-heart in the future?" Sarah ground out, she did not have the patience for this today. Turning back to the stove she flipped another pancake over. She wasn't going to let the machine get to her.

"In the future there is no coffee."

Now _that_ bothered her. Not the statement, but everything it implied. And she was going to give their robot-turned-barista a piece of her mind.

Only John's sudden entrance derailed her. "I know. I know. We'll be late."

He had his backpack in one hand and was trying to stuff a textbook into it with the other. His hair was still damp from the shower.

He was such a mess Sarah was ready to concede: while the world was going to end, another 5 minutes wouldn't matter.

She was going to say as much. But then Cameron turned to John and held the cup of coffee out to him. And the way he took the cup from her, almost without thinking. The familiarity…

"Thanks Cam."

Cam. He even had a pet name for her, for _it_. Sarah felt her stomach turn.

Then he smiled at her. And she smiled back. Awkwardly. Almost timidly.

A machine smile.

"Mom, the pancakes are burning."

"Dammit."

* * *

Author's Notes: Now that I've got the characters setup, things will start to move faster. I hope. I want to thank everyone for reading. I've never written more than a one-shot before so I'm still getting the hang of it. To try and keep people interested I've added a peak of the next chapter.

**Next Chapter: **

"It appears Mr. Baum missed first period. He may just be tardy. Can you wait a few minutes?"

"Yes. I can wait a few minutes."

"I'm sorry your name was?"

"Agent Robert Kester."


	3. Can't we all just get along?

Title: Echoes

Chapter 3: Can't we all just get along?

Disclaimer: I don't own Terminator. This work is not intended for profit.

Author's notes: I got a little sidetracked while working on this chapter. Another project came up. But I tried to get back on pace. This is my first time trying my hand at action.

* * *

So far, the day's events had only confirmed her opinion: Sarah Connor's priorities were flawed. John should have slept in. Arriving at school late had not resulted in any significant mark on their academic records. Furthermore, it was unlikely that the school's curriculum would contain anything of value to John Connor's development as a leader. Cameron decided to discuss this with Sarah Connor when convenient. Most humans would appreciate advice regarding their children.

Under the pretense of looking at the clock Cameron searched the room for threats. It was unlikely that she would discover a threat in her 11th scan of the room in less than 4 minutes. However, the "homeroom" period offered little mental stimulation.

While many students used the allotted time to complete homework assignments, the majority chose to socialize.

Neither option appealed to Cameron. She preferred to complete her assignments the night before they were due. And while developing her infiltration abilities would be useful, her priority was to protect John.

The bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom. Cameron proceeded to her locker and retrieved the required English book for her next period class. While she had already committed the contents to memory, John had warned her that displaying such knowledge would cause her to stand out.

It was important to not be a freak.

"Cameron Baum?"

A male student, roughly 5 foot 6 inches, stood before her. She did not recall interacting with him in any capacity.

"Yes."

"Here you go." He handed her a small folded piece of paper, chuckling softly. "There's some cop in the office. He wants to talk to your brother."

The unknown student appeared pleased by the situation. Perhaps he possessed some form of ill will towards John.

He was a potential threat.

**

* * *

**

Approximately 3 minutes later Cameron discreetly approached the administrative offices.

It was unlikely that John had committed any offence warranting the presence of a police officer. However, there was always the possibility of Skynet's involvement. Regardless of the police officer's identity any threat to John required investigation.

Cameron watched Morris slowly enter the office. He appeared nervous. Perhaps, he feared that he would be charged with John's alleged misdeeds. That seemed unlikely if it was truly a police officer waiting for John. The greater danger was that one of Skynet's agents would kill Morris in John's place.

Morris' safety was irrelevant.

Upon Morris' arrival an unknown man turned to address him. They began to speak briefly, but she was unable to hear them.

**Analyzing Subject…**

**Possible Match to Endoskeleton: **

**Unit: "Cromartie"**

**Model: T-888**

Engaging a T-888 in a public location was inadvisable. Her identity would be revealed, compromising her ability to protect John. Cameron moved down the hallway until she was out of sight.

Terminators were not known for wasting time. The Hispanic male was obviously not John Connor. With no further business involving Morris, Cromartie left the office.

Only a few steps behind Cameron trailed the T-888.

"Cameron!"

**

* * *

**

"Cameron!"

It was about time he found her. Where the hell had she been? He was about to ask as she marched up to him. But the question died in his throat when she pinned him to the wall. The shocked look on his face must have gone unnoticed. She refused to tear her eyes away from the hallway.

"What is it?" He was starting to get worried.

She finally turned her attention to him, "Nothing."

Then, without another word, she walked away.

John stared. She was acting strange, even for her. He moved to follow her when Morris suddenly appeared. Grabbing his arm, Morris practically dragged him off in the opposite direction.

"Your sister is a genius. And I have never felt more alive." He seemed almost giddy.

"What?" John turned to face him. What the hell was going on?

"Don't worry. I totally got that cop of your back."

"Wait. What cop?" He was just getting more confused. John looked back for Cameron but the she was nowhere to be found.

Why would a cop be looking for John Baum? His record was clean. Was that why Cameron was acting weird? Why hadn't she told him?

"Hey, Earth to John?" Morris was actually waving his hand in front of John. "You look out of it."

A knot had formed in his stomach. He was starting to feel edgy. But he pushed it out of his mind. "I'm okay."

"Right." Morris rolled his eyes before turning away. "Shit! That's the guy."

John followed Morris' gaze. He saw a normal looking guy standing at the other end of the hallway. He wasn't dressed like a cop. But there was something about him, about his posture. Maybe he was just really uptight. But the way he moved… The way he turned, his entire body rotating towards him. It was familiar.

Efficient.

**

* * *

**

"I'm okay."

**Possible Voice Match: Verify**

Cromartie turned, scanning the immediate area. The hallway was crowded with students milling about their lockers.

**Performing Facial Scan…**

**Invalid Match**

The sheer density of the crowd was a hindrance.

**Visual Obstruction…**

**Facial Scan Incomplete**

**Reacquire Subject**

And the constant movement of the students exacerbated it.

**Performing Facial Scan…**

**Invalid Match**

He analyzed the students in close proximity, each scan returning as invalid. He expanded his search, taking in the entire length of the corridor.

**Performing Facial Scan…**

**Invalid Match**

Then, at the end of the hallway, the boy identified as John Baum. And behind him-

**Performing Facial Scan…**

**Identity Confirmed: John Connor**

**Primary Mission: Terminate**

**

* * *

**

It had to be a machine. The way it moved. The way it looked at him. And no police officer, agent, or whatever, would open fire like that. Hell, no human would have _tried_ shooting him from that far away in a crowded hallway.

No human would have succeeded.

So he ran, clutching his left arm, trying to block out the pain. And failing. There was chaos all around him. The screaming was deafening. Students were running in and out of the classrooms. And somewhere an alarm was sounding.

Years of training, of living in fear, finally kicked in as his mind caught up with him.

He ran harder.

He'd been standing next to Morris when it caught sight of them. They'd just turned the corner when all hell broke loose. He'd barely managed to duck back around the corner, bullet and all. But the rest of the hallway was a straight away. A deathtrap. He had to keep moving, to get out of its line of sight.

It wasn't a person behind him. It hadn't been a lucky shot back there.

He took in his surroundings. Second floor. Classrooms on either side of him. The main offices lay ahead of him. He'd have to work with that. Classrooms typically had one entrance but the main offices were different. Constant foot traffic meant more entrances and right now more exits.

He entered the office, practically bowling over one terrified student. It looked like the offices were still occupied. Students and teachers cowered behind the furniture. As scared as they already were, the sight of John set off another round of screaming.

He couldn't risk one of the private rooms in the back. If he couldn't get the windows open fast enough… And he'd still be on the second floor with no way to scale the building.

John pinned his hopes on the exits that lined the other side of the room, feeding into the surrounding hallways. Thankfully, the main office was centrally located, flanked by a hallway on each side, with several doors. He'd passed them on a regular basis. They were even in the blueprints he hadn't bothered to study.

_It's a high school mom, not Supermax. _

Goddamn it. Now was not the time.

He noted, almost distantly, that the noise was quieting down. Less students, less screaming, even the rate of fire had dropped off. Aside from the first volley the terminator must have been conserving its ammunition.

Okay, made sense. Posing as an agent, security would have waved him through, no problem. But how much ordinance could he carry without drawing attention to himself? Low on ammo and with a machine's accuracy, he could afford to pick his shot.

Unless it had killed the guards and taken their guns.

'One level of screwed at a time John.'

He cut through what passed as the waiting area of the office, heading to the other end. He saw the nearest exit that would spit him out into the adjacent hallway. Once in the hallway there was more than one stairwell to use. He just had to lose the machine for a few seconds.

Adrenaline pumping, he exited the main office and was in sight of the nearest stairwell.

Only to be caught in an inhuman grip.

His lungs wouldn't function. His arm felt like it was on fire. He struggled desperately in the vice-like grip. But it was useless.

**

* * *

**

John was in trouble.

Cromartie had found him. The gunfire had clearly come from his last known location. And it was moving.

She had miscalculated. She had assumed Cromartie would leave without further incident.

Cameron raced through the crowded hallways; weaving through terrified students when possible, plowing through them when it wasn't. She wasn't scared. Machines could not feel emotion, at least not human emotion.

**WARNING**

**Primary Mission: Protect John Connor**

**Mission Failure Imminent**

It seemed that her programming was doing its best to compensate.

It was a minor miracle that she saw him. She was approaching the main offices when he burst from one of the side exits and ran down the connecting hallway. Or he would have, if she hadn't grabbed him. He struggled in her grip, turning to face her. It was only when he tried to pry her hand off his arm that she realized he was injured.

A cursory scan revealed the wound was not life threatening. But it was still a result of her mistake in judgment.

"John, run." She pushed him back the way she'd come.

"Cameron it's not…it's." He ground out between clenched teeth.

"I know. Run."

He paused a moment, staring at her, before nodding his head and taking off down the corridor.

Cameron approached the door John had emerged from, waiting for Cromartie. More screaming came from inside the room. She heard an adult voice, pleading for their lives. Cromartie must have stopped inside. Cameron considered entering the room but every second he waited was a second for John to get away.

She didn't wait long. Cromartie must have noticed the drops of blood leading into the hallway.

He'd barely cleared the doorway when Cameron attacked, slamming her fists down on his exposed arm. The gun flew from his hand and clattered on the ground several feet away. Having caught him off-guard, she pressed the attack. She ignored the firearm. It was low caliber, all but useless. Instead, she put all of her considerable strength into kicking the back of his knee. Off-balance, he staggered to the side and she struck him in the head repeatedly.

But terminators recover quickly. Without straightening up, Cromartie rammed his shoulder into her chest. Cameron fell into the wall behind her but managed to keep her footing. He landed two punches to her face before she grabbed his arms. With their arms locked, he used his greater strength to push her back, pinning the smaller machine against the office wall. They stared at each other, locked in position, neither able to strike the other.

She was taking too long. Cameron knew she had failed to cause any significant damage. Such was the nature of fighting another machine. But John was injured. His identity compromised. He needed her. Planting one foot against the wall she drove the T-888 backwards.

Directly into the window.

The glass shattered instantly. Their momentum carried Cromartie completely through. Cameron desperately clutched windowsill with one hand and tried to break away. But the bigger terminator managed to hold onto her forearm, tearing into fabric and synthetic skin. He tried to climb with his other hand but couldn't find purchase on the smooth exterior.

Cameron had expected Cromartie to pull her out along with him. But she understood his reasoning. For all he knew John was still inside the school. She was just an obstacle. He wanted to get back into the building, back to the last known whereabouts of John Connor.

Cameron braced herself against what remained of the wall and pulled. As he was pulled upward, Cromartie reached for the ledge with his free hand. He had just closed his hand over it when Cameron slammed his other arm, still clutching her forearm, down on what remained of the window, again and again. The impacts loosened his grip and she tore herself free.

Now grabbing the edge with both hands, Cromartie began to pull himself inside. Until, a solid kick to the chest sent him tumbling to the ground.

But a two story fall is nothing to a terminator.

He was on his feet almost instantly. Cameron watched him study the building for just a moment before running to the nearest entrance. Fortunately, not in the direction John had fled. Pausing only to pick up the abandoned handgun, Cameron raced down the connecting hallway.

She had to find John.

The blood on the door handle confirmed which stairwell he'd used. Once on the ground floor Cameron found herself within sight of the parking lot. Most of the students had already fled, apparently on foot. There was no shortage of abandoned vehicles. Emergency response was starting to arrive. But so far only two patrol cars were present. They would not pose any threat to a T-888.

She made her way through the now deserted parking lot. John was nowhere to be found. He'd made better progress than she'd hoped.

She needed to secure a vehicle. But the patrol cars had taken position at the parking lot's only exit. She had no choice but to try the small shopping center nearby.

Fortunately, her luck finally changed. She'd just started running down the street when a car came into sight. Stepping in front of the vehicle she tried to flag it down.

The driver, a young woman, immediately stopped at the sight of a beaten and bloodied teenaged girl. But whatever concern she felt turned into horror when she noticed the gun in Cameron's hand.

Deciding that an explanation would take too long, Cameron punched through the driver's side window.

"Please remain calm."

Seconds later the terrified driver found herself on the pavement with part of her seatbelt still in her hands.

Transportation secured, Cameron took out her cell phone.

"John, where are you?"

* * *

FYI, I like the idea of John and Cameron together, if done well. While their relationship will be important to the story, don't look for instant payoff. I'm not going to ignore any of the obstacles they need to work through.


	4. Chapter 4

**Story Title: The Unvoiced**

**Chapter 4**

Disclaimer: I don't own Terminator. I'm not making any money off this.

A/N: Sorry this took a little while longer. The holidays interfered and I had to complete another Terminator fanfic for a challenge on another site. Also this is where things get more complicated. The title has changed, but it's still tentative.

* * *

Cameron caught up to John quickly. He'd only gotten on the road a few minutes ahead of her. He didn't have her luck with transportation and hotwiring a car with one arm had been a challenge. So she met up with him and they left his vehicle on the side of the road. Reunited, John called Sarah while Cameron broke every traffic law known to man or cyborg. They made it home in less than 10 minutes.

Charlie still beat them there.

John didn't want to know how that conversation had gone. Being around Charlie always threw him for a loop. Too many questions about what might have been. He couldn't imagine what it was like for his mom.

But Charlie was a professional, if he felt as awkward as John it didn't show. He'd taken less than a second to unwrap the field dressing. And it was a crappy dressing. The best he could do with one arm and the sweater he found in the backseat.

"Talk to me Johnny. What happened?"

So John told him. He told Charlie everything he could remember: from first seeing the terminator to running into the parking lot and trying not to bleed all over the stolen car.

By the time he finished his mom was pacing like a caged animal.

"How the hell did this happen?" She railed at the cyborg.

John heard the real question, even if Cameron didn't.

_How could you let this happen?_

"Cromartie found us. He performed a school by school search for John." The cyborg dutifully replied.

She hadn't let him out of her sight since they met up on the road. At the moment she was standing within arms reach, scrutinizing Charlie's work. If he didn't know better, John would have thought she resented Charlie's presence.

"And you're sure you weren't followed?"

John thought that was a stupid question. He'd thought it was a stupid question the last time she asked. They wouldn't be sitting here if Cromartie was still on their trail. He took a deep breath, tried not to think about the pain. That's all it really was. He wasn't really frustrated with his mom. She wasn't even angry with Cameron. He knew his mother. He was injured and she felt helpless. She was in crisis mode now.

At least she'd stop pestering him about his homework for a while.

"We were not followed."

Silence reigned over the room, broken only by the sound of the newscast.

[An unknown assailant impersonating a police officer opened fire at a local high school.]

The school shooting was on every channel. Charlie was blocking his view but he could still hear it.

[Several students injured, at least one in critical condition.]

[The shooter remains at large.]

Sarah turned to the cyborg. "I bet the car has been reported by now. Dump it. Make it quick."

Cameron didn't move. She looked at John uncertainly.

"I'll be fine." He assured her.

With one last glance, she left the room.

John refused to meet his mother's eyes.

Another tense silence filled the room.

"There's the problem. Somebody shot you."

Until Charlie shattered it.

The look Sarah shot him would have melted coltan.

But he got a smirk out of John. Charlie was always good at that.

"You are incredibly lucky John. The bullet passed straight through, missed the bone. You'll make a full recovery."

Right. Lucky…

"What about the blood loss?"

Sarah was holding his torn and bloody T-shirt, twisting it in her hands. She was pacing again, clearly on edge.

"If you're that worried take him to an emergency room."

Maybe they were all on edge.

Before she could respond he continued. "I know. I know. It's not dangerous. He needs to stay in bed for a few days. The arm itself will be a couple of weeks."

That was a relief. True, Derek was a match. Speaking of Derek…

"Where's Derek?"

"By now he's heading to the supply drop."

John knew what that meant.

Charlie must have seen it on his face.

"What's going on?"

"We're running." She looked out the window. "As soon as it gets dark."

"What about the police? This guy shot up a school. They're gonna be all over him."

Sarah was already shaking her head. "The police can't stop him. They can't protect us."

They couldn't protect _him_. So they were running, there was no talking her out of it, not with a hole in his arm. Cromartie was too close. He knew who John Baum really was. It was the right decision.

So why did it feel like giving up?

"Ah, Sarah can you get a glass of water?" Charlie was holding up a pair of white pills.

John shared a look with his mother. "It won't put me to sleep will it?"

Charlie sighed, "That wouldn't be a bad thing. But no, it'll just take the edge off. I'll give you something stronger for later."

**

* * *

**

Derek could barely see the school from beyond the police perimeter. It wasn't the best place for a wanted man to be. But they'd made that decision when the news report first broke. Hiding among the crowd, he tried to look like just another curious onlooker.

Damn. The triple eight was nowhere in sight. He'd already talked to Sarah. John was home, injured but alive. He'd hung around, hoping to find some kind of trail to follow. Terminators weren't known for being discreet, not when they were so close to their target.

He needed to get to the supply drop. He knew Sarah Connor. She'd want to disappear.

Derek was halfway to the jeep when something felt wrong. He kept walking, pretended to fumble with his keys. Picking them off the asphalt he surveyed the parking lot.

Nothing.

He hadn't survived this long by not trusting his instincts. He pulled out his cell phone and hit the first number on his speed dial.

"Where the hell are you Reese?"

Sliding into the driver's seat, he tapped the keypad twice. "I think I've got a tail."

"The machine?"

Derek glanced at both side mirrors before reaching for the rearview, turning it left then right.

Still nothing.

"I don't see anything. But I'm going with my gut."

A pause. "Catch up to us later."

Derek started the car. It was going to be a long drive.

**

* * *

**

Sarah hung up the phone. This was a problem. She'd expected Derek to be on his way back by now. Charlie had left over an hour ago. Cameron would be back soon. They needed to move. But if Derek was being followed, or even suspected he was being followed… They couldn't afford to take any chances.

Sarah heard footsteps approaching the front door. She heard the deadbolt give, the handle turned.

And Cameron found herself staring down the business end of a shotgun.

"Next time knock."

"Where's John?"

The machine didn't wait for an answer.

By the time Sarah caught up to Cameron, she was already in his room. Sarah stopped at the sight of them. The machine was standing with John in the center of the room, one hand resting lightly on his injured arm.

John must have caught sight of her in the doorway. He gently took Cameron's hand in his and pulled it away.

"I'm fine." John gestured to his bed. "Sit down."

The cyborg obeyed sitting primly on the edge of his bed. John took the chair from his desk, setting it down in front of her. Then he started pulling items out of the first aid kit, already lying open next to her.

He must have been waiting for her.

John began patching her up, starting with the minor cuts on her face. He cleaned each cut methodically before applying a small band aid, covering up the small glints of metal. John was obviously more comfortable around the sight of ripped flesh and exposed metal than she was. But he still had to pause when she took off her jacket.

"Jesus, Cameron are you okay?"

Her left forearm was a mess, long jagged strips of flesh were missing halfway to the elbow. The remaining flesh was torn, pieces hanging off the limb. It was a gruesome sight, even for a machine.

"The wound will close within 40 hours."

"That's not the point."

No, it wasn't the point. But it should have been. He was too close to the machine.

Treating her injured arm was a challenge. With John's left arm in a sling they had to work together. And they did, setting the gauze and handing the roll of bandages back and forth between them, wrapping her forearm.

Sarah felt a now familiar turning in her stomach. She needed a distraction.

"Tell me what happened at the school. I want to know everything."

Sarah didn't expect to learn anything significant. She'd questioned John several times already.

While her eyes never strayed from John's hands, Cameron began retelling her version of the day's events. She just didn't get very far. She'd only just mentioned getting Morris involved when John interrupted her.

John stared at her, exasperated. "You sent Morris? Did you even consider what could happen to him?"

"No. Morris' safety was not a concern."

John sighed, "Cameron."

He looked exhausted but he finished wrapping her arm."We'll talk about this later."

"You're handling this well." Sarah observed.

He really was. She'd expected a much bigger outburst and not because Morris was his friend. To John every life was important. He had tried to teach that to the other machine.

Cameron rotated her wrist, testing the bandage. Apparently satisfied, she smiled at John before facing Sarah. "The risk to Morris was low. When I analyzed the threat's endoskeletal structure I identified him as Cromartie. He would most likely move on without harming him."

Sarah rolled her eyes at the machine's logic. It was perfect. And completely lacking compassion. She was about to say as much when she glanced at John.

This time he was frozen. His entire body tense.

"You knew it was him? In the hallway… when you lied to me."

She should have looked at Cameron, should have demanded an answer. But she couldn't tear her eyes away from John. The way he was acting, the sudden change in his behavior… It was like looking at a stranger.

"Yes.", Cameron answered simply.

John's face was a mask, betraying nothing, "Get out of my room."

The only sound in the room came from John restocking the first aid kit.

Cameron shot a puzzled look at John's back. "Is something wrong?"

John snapped the kit shut. "Get out."

Cameron looked at Sarah, possibly for an explanation. Sarah glared back. The seconds dragged until finally, Cameron left the room.

With the machine gone and the door closed, the tension in the room dropped, but didn't disappear completely. They needed to talk about this. The machine had lied to them again. She expected John to be angry, maybe even hurt. But standing there, watching him. She knew there was more to it than that.

But they were running late.

"Change of plans, we're not waiting on Derek. 20 minutes."

A quick nod was her only response.

Sarah opened the door and left the room to find Cameron standing just outside, literally just beyond the threshold.

"Is John grieving?"

It really didn't understand her son at all.

She'd never admit it but that was comforting.

"Load the car."

Fifteen minutes later she was outside, trying to conceal a shotgun in the backseat of the car. Looking at the storm clouds growing overhead, Sarah let out a sigh of frustration. Not even the weather was on their side.

John walked out of the house with a single bag. They always traveled light.

"I'm ready."

"How's the arm?"

"Fine."

Satisfied they'd pass a casual inspection, Sarah shut the door. Another long silence settled in. "Back there-"

John cut her off. "She lied to me. That's what she was programmed to do."

Now it made sense to her. This wasn't just about Cameron...

Distantly she heard a clap of thunder.

"We have to trust his judgment."

Dammit. _Your judgment._ That's what she meant to say. But it was hard sometimes, to think of the boy standing in front of her as the general already fighting the war.

John didn't seem to notice the slip.

Sarah reached out, grabbed him by his good arm. "Now's not the time. We need to trust the decisions you've made."

"He made."

So he had noticed. Maybe he just agreed with it.

They weren't ready to talk about _that_. Not now. It was a hole they might not be able to climb out of.

Sarah looked back at the sky. There was a flash of lightening, a heartbeat later, thunder. But the storm had yet to break.

"John, let's go."

**

* * *

**

Charlie Dixon wasn't much of a drinker. After everything he'd seen, as both a paramedic and as an associate of Sarah Connor, he probably should have been. But he'd been sitting in front of the TV for a while now and he'd barely finished his third beer.

Every channel was still covering the shooting. And as much as he wanted to stop thinking about Sarah and John, he couldn't bring himself to turn it off.

Sometimes he wished he'd never met Sarah Reese.

She really was a different person back then. He liked to imagine that part of the woman he loved was still there. But there were times, like today, when he didn't know who he was talking to.

The things she had to do, the things that she had to put John through, to survive.

The FBI agent, Ellison, had mocked them. He'd asked if Charlie saw John as some kind of "Luke Skywalker-type", capable of saving the world. It was hard enough knowing what they were going through. But knowing that everyone though Sarah was crazy, that John was just a delinquent…

He heard a creak from the hallway. Michelle was home. Great, now all he had to do was explain where he was today and why he was drinking. He decided to take the initiative before she got the wrong idea. After all, killer robots from the future were better than infidelity.

Right?

Except that Michelle wasn't that tall, or male, and didn't usually point a gun at him.

"Charlie Dixon?"

Well, not just a break in then.

"No. But if you see him don't tell him I was here."

That got a very annoyed look from the mystery man. Charlie took another swig, emptying the bottle.

Apparently the guy was short on patience. "Funny. I need you to make a call."

Before he could respond with another pointless, but funny comment, the mysterious stranger continued talking. Turned out he had a lot to say: who he was, why he was here, and where/when he was from. He even had the decency to lower his gun but he didn't put it away.

With very few options, and reasoning that at least a heads-up would do them some good, Charlie pulled out his cell phone.

"Sarah.", he managed before she started yelling at him. "Listen. There's some guy here. He says John sent him… sent him back."


	5. The Visitor

Story: The Unvoiced.

Chapter 5: The Visitor

Disclaimer: What the hell did I write last chapter? I own nothing related to Terminator, this work is not intended for profit.

A/N: This came out a little ahead of schedule. I was expecting to post it next week. But due to illness I had nothing else to do but write. And I decided to cut the chapter down so I could get it out before the new episodes. I want to thank everyone for following the story. I know I don't have the best update rate.

Italics in a _sentence_ are for emphasis.

_Italics by themselves are a thought._

* * *

It wasn't raining.

John liked the rain. They way it broke free of the clouds. The sound. The feel. And afterwards the air felt different, cleaner. It was cathartic, to lose yourself in the rain.

He could have used a distraction. Instead, he was fully aware of everything happening inside the car.

His mother was driving, of course. The tension was rolling off of her in waves, hands clutching the steering wheel, knuckles white. Her eyes were constantly shifting between the road and the rearview.

John thought he could hear the grinding of her teeth.

Cameron seemed oblivious, sitting in the passenger seat eyes forward, her face blank. Her expression, her posture betrayed nothing. But John knew she was the most vigilant, scanning the road with her enhanced vision.

John stared out the window. He didn't want to think about Cameron right now. Unfamiliar streets, some he'd never heard of, passed before his eyes. They'd been on the road for 2 hours, might have been leaving LA altogether. It felt like they'd been on the road for days.

The silence was oppressive.

He was almost grateful when his mom's phone rang.

She answered it before the second ring, glancing at the ID. "What?"

John could hear someone talking but couldn't make out any of the words. He glanced at Cameron. She was staring at his mom openly, her attention completely focused. He'd never seen that kind of intensity on her face before.

The voice on the other end started talking faster, urgently.

Sarah glanced back at him, just for a second. "I'm in the middle of something. We'll talk soon."

She hung up before they could reply.

"Who was it? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing. Charlie was just checking up on us."

John went back to staring out the window. She was hiding something. He thought about asking Cameron but couldn't bring himself to speak to her.

Silence settled back over them.

John found himself thinking about Charlie. He didn't believe his mother but now the thought was in his head. As discreetly as possible he flexed his injured arm. The painkillers were doing exactly what he said they'd do. They definitely took the edge off. The pain in his arm was manageable now. Just a dull throb. His entire body felt heavy, relaxed.

And his head was fine. The pills made him feel a little groggy, nothing he couldn't handle. He didn't have to fight to stay awake.

Charlie was always a straight shooter.

They pulled up to what was probably a foreclosed home. It looked small, maybe 2 bedrooms. Cameron immediately opened the door, shotgun in hand, and left the vehicle.

She returned minutes later. "The area is intact."

Sarah didn't bother to look at her. "Get everything inside." Then to John, "Get some rest."

"Right."

He stepped out of the car, adjusted his backpack over his good arm. It was a short walk up the driveway, Cameron shadowing him every step of the way. She'd fallen back into her routine, acting like nothing had happened.

It was frustrating as all hell.

Walking through the front door, he took stock of their safe house. His first impressions about the place weren't entirely accurate. The house was bigger than he'd thought but obviously one of the older buildings in the neighborhood. It had been gutted a long time ago.

They'd stayed in worse.

Knowing he wasn't going to sleep any time soon, John sat down at the kitchen counter. Thankfully, the stools had been bolted to the floor.

Cameron disappeared down the hallway, quickly inspecting the other rooms.

He dug through his backpack. Most of his stuff was still in the car. He'd packed his bag light, just the stuff he'd need on the run. He had a Beretta with spare clips. Various forms of identification, all fake. Cash. He had his laptop and the rest of his gear. And finally, the CPU from the T-888.

Vick's chip.

Cameron returned, setting a wooden crate on the counter next to him. He didn't recall seeing anything like that in the car. Curiosity getting the best of him, he decided to sneak a peak.

M79. Grenade launcher.

They definitely didn't pack _that_ themselves.

That meant Derek was here.

His mom would bring him up to booted up his laptop, muted the volume. He'd backed up some of Vick's memories onto the hard drive. He wanted to take another look at them, at the strange machine language embedded in each file.

The image of a heavily wooded area, overlooking the city, filled the screen. A young woman ran across his field of vision. A hand reached out, grabbed her by the back of her coat. She turned, stared at her attacker, her face a silent scream. She was sobbing, no doubt pleading with her attacker.

It didn't seem real.

A second hand grabbed her, tightened over her throat. And then she was flying, falling, lying in the dirt.

Who was Jessica Peck? The woman Vick had deemed a threat. He could only find one memory devoted specifically to her. There had to be more. He needed to understand those symbols, to figure out how its brain worked.

How did Vick find her? How proactive had he been?

He thought about taking a look at another file but didn't know if he was up to it. Seeing the world through the machine's eyes was creepy. It was like looking in a mirror. The images made sense but they felt hollow. Everything was detached.

Better pack it in for the night.

Sighing in frustration John leaned back and stretched, or tried too. Hissing softly, he cradled his injured arm against his chest. Idiot. Hopefully nobody saw that. He already felt useless and didn't want anyone worrying about him. Suddenly self conscious, he glanced around the room and realized he was alone.

He'd been alone for a while.

Cameron should have come back by now.

Picking up the Beretta, John walked towards the front door.

Hiding behind the doorframe, he peered outside. He knew he was just being paranoid; getting shot did that to you. It was all in his head. He was being stupid, jumping at shadows.

Derek and his mom were standing in the middle of the street, arguing. That wasn't unusual. They argued all the time and they weren't shy about it. But they shouldn't have been fighting right now and not out in the open. Whatever they were fighting about must have been important. It really had them worked up.

And they were keeping it to themselves.

Cameron emerged from the back of the jeep, two large boxes in her slender arms. Instead of carrying them inside, she walked directly to Derek and Sarah. She said _something_, and whatever it was set off another outburst from Derek.

It looked like John was the only one in the dark.

He wanted to get closer, to be able to hear them. Sarah said something to Cameron and gestured to the house. Cameron responded with her trademark blank stare before turning back to the safe house. John quickly ducked out of the way.

He ran back to the counter. He needed something to do, to pretend to have been doing.

Deep breath.

Nobody saw him.

The laptop was still running.

He picked a random was barely running when Cameron came back inside. Seconds later she set the boxes down somewhere behind him.

Distantly, he heard a car starting.

John fixed his eyes on the laptop, forcing himself not to react.

On the screen Victor Chamberlain opened the door to the master bathroom. Steam poured out of the room, a woman's silhouette visible through the shower door. By the time the triple eight reached the shower door John couldn't bring himself to watch anymore.

He knew what happened next.

Shutting down the laptop, he picked up the chip was… surreal. Terminators were relentless. It was easy to think of them as invulnerable, unstoppable. But here he was, holding Vick's chip, his brain maybe even his soul.

It looked so ordinary.

"John?" Cameron soft voiced surprised him.

She was standing behind him holding a rolled up sleeping bag out to him.

John took the sleeping bag from her. "Thanks."

John turned back to the table.

Cameron sat down on the stool next to him, laying an assault rifle down in front of her. Did Derek pack the entire weapons cache?

"John?"

He didn't look at her. "What?"

"Are you angry with me?"

John didn't answer. He kept staring at the chip, turning it over in his hands.

When he finally spoke it was practically a whisper. "You can lie…when the mission requires it."

_You can lie to me. _

"Yes."

_You lie to me._

John took a deep breath. "How did lying to me serve your mission?"

"I miscalculated. I expected Cromartie to leave without incident."

She was avoiding the question. She'd never done that before. Or maybe he'd just been too blind to see it. He waited for her to continue, to say something, anything.

Silence.

His patience was running out. He'd wanted to question her earlier, in the car. But couldn't, not in front of his mom. It felt too personal. He'd thought this over a hundred times. Logically. He'd come up with two conclusions, neither of them good. This was a mistake.

He'd only end up hurt.

But he had to know.

"Why did you lie to me? What were you thinking?"

She didn't answer right away. Was she thinking up another lie? Or was she debating how much information he was entitled too, even when it was his life on the line.

Finally, she spoke. "I was uncertain how you would react. There was a significant possibility you would have put yourself in danger."

That was it. It wasn't just that she lied to him. She didn't trust his judgment. She didn't trust him.

"Why would you lie to me like that?" He blurted out before he could stop himself.

He fought the urge to smack himself. She'd already answered that.

Again, she was silent. The sheer stupidity of his question must have confused her.

Then she answered him, in her typically cool tones. "I was operating within my mission parameters, as you programmed me in the future."

The way he programmed her… except that he didn't program her that way. He'd never programmed her at all. This was all about _him_, General Connor.

At least he had his answers, even if he didn't like them.

He stared at the chip, didn't realize he was speaking out loud."Do you lie to him too? Are you programmed for that?"

_Do you doubt his judgment?_

Her response was immediate. "No, I do not lie to my John."

John flinched. _My John_. There was a stab in his chest that the painkillers couldn't help. He opened his mouth to speak, stopped, and tried again.

What could he say that would change her programming?

* * *

Today was full of surprises. Derek had spent more than 2 hours driving all over Los Angeles to lose a tail he was never sure he had. He hadn't even reached the safe house before Sarah called him.

There was a change of plans.

Once he'd caught up to her they'd waited, and argued, just long enough for the machine to unload some of the heavier firepower. Then they hit the road.

He was still uncomfortable with leaving John alone. One machine protecting him, another so close.

But this was too important.

They stopped a few blocks short of Charlie's house. The plan was simple: someone sneaks in while the other distracts them with a phone call. Then they spent 10 minutes fighting over who would take the plunge.

He locked eyes with her. "Which one of us is expendable?"

He saw her jaw tighten, knew she wanted to debate the point. Or maybe she just wanted to scream at him. But he was right.

John still needed his mother.

It was nice of her to try.

Derek reached into his jacket, pulled out a silencer.

Sarah stared at him.

He stared back.

Sarah Connor, strong as she was, had never killed anyone.

Another reason it had to be him.

Sarah pulled out her cell phone. "Charlie. Put him on the phone."

Derek cut across the nearest lawn, ran to the back of the building. Out of sight from the street, he worked his way towards Charlie's house. It was late, well past midnight. Naturally, in such a nice family neighborhood all the houses were dark.

Charlie's place would have been easy to miss. It was just like all the other cookie cutter houses, two stories, with a small garden in the back. There was probably a picket fence out front.

He reached the back door, finding it shut but obviously picked. From his position he could see through the window, into the kitchen. Empty. They could have been anywhere.

He cracked the door open, heard someone talking, a voice he didn't recognize.

Straight down the hall, the living room.

Stepping inside, Derek reconsidered his decision not to bring along another weapon. So far it was just one voice but that wasn't a guarantee. He wasn't that worried about a terminator. This wasn't a machine's style. They had too much control over the situation.

But machines weren't the only danger. The history between Charlie Dixon and Sarah Connor wasn't a secret to everyone.

John might trust the guy but that didn't mean anything to Derek. John was a child. Charlie didn't know what was at stake, not the way they did. He had a wife, a picture perfect life.

If someone put the screws to him …

People would do anything to protect what they had.

Creeping down the corridor, Derek stopped just before the doorway. He stood there listening, trying to get a sense of where they were standing.

A familiar jeep pulled into the driveway, its headlights flooded the room.

It was all the diversion he needed.

"Drop it."

For someone with a gun trained on him, the guy was surprisingly calm, setting down both his weapon and cell phone before stepping away.

Maybe he was a machine.

The guy, whoever the hell he was, was unremarkable. He might have been 5' 9" with an average build. He couldn't have been 30 years old but he was aged, like everybody else after Judgment Day.

"Who are you?"

"Sergeant Davis. Tech junkie out of Presidio."

Presidio. That battalion was based up north, near the ruins of San Francisco. Anyone could know that, human or metal.

"Presidio. Williams ran it."

Davis gave him a knowing look. "I served under Colonel Bennet. Never heard of Williams."

That was true. But high ranking Resistance members were well known.

Why couldn't Charlie own a dog?

He still wasn't convinced. It must have showed on his face.

"I was transferred to Connor's command. At Edwards"

That sealed it. Connor's military stronghold, hidden under the wreckage of Edwards Air Force base, was their most important military facility. If the machines had found that, the war was over.

Derek kept his weapon trained on him, mostly out of habit. "Charlie, call Sarah. Tell her its okay."

Charlie bent down to pick up the discarded cell phone. After a moment's hesitation he picked up the handgun too, treating it like some kind of snake.

Derek took his first real look at Charlie. He looked fine, not a mark on him. Five empty bottles on the table next to him; probably had a good buzz going.

"Sarah." Charlie paused. "Yeah he did." He closed the phone and looked at Derek. "She's on her way."

Derek finally lowered his gun. "What's your mission?"

They should have waited for Sarah. But being around another resistance fighter, a soldier with a rank, it was easy to forget.

Sarah walked calmly through the back door, armed with her shotgun.

Derek glanced at her. "We have a new target. One that'll cripple Skynet."

Sarah shot him an annoyed look. "Where are we going?"

If Davis was annoyed he hid it well. He went back over what little he'd already covered. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the potential loss of life, the tension in the room slowly drained away.

During the briefing nobody moved, except for Charlie who wanted another beer. In his defense he brought back enough for everyone.

Sarah took Derek aside to talk privately.

Standing in the kitchen, she nodded towards the living room. "You knew him?"

"We didn't exactly travel in the same social circles."

That was putting it lightly. The Resistance wasn't that intimate. Most of the time, the left hand didn't know what the right hand was doing. Everyone just put their faith in Connor.

"He's definitely one of ours. He was a tech guy, worked on hacking Skynet tech."

Sarah nodded. "That's why John sent him back."

"It's gotta be part of it. The guy doesn't know about Cameron. I'll bring him in later."

A quick nod. Even if she was used to Cameron, Sarah understood the sentiment. Besides, the safe house was meant to be temporary under the best of conditions. If they were going after this target they'd need to leave anyway, no point in bringing someone else there now.

Another nod and she walked back into the living room.

Derek watched as she tried to talk to Charlie. They were so awkward around each other it was painful.

Something about Charlie irked him, something about seeing John and Sarah with Charlie.

He didn't follow her into the living room. He didn't want to hear what they had to say. Whatever they said to each other, it was brief. She walked out the front door without looking back.

He'd never seen two people look so defeated after a conversation.

Derek returned to the living room and found Davis standing uncomfortably in the corner. "We'll go back to your place. Grab your stuff. Meet up with her and John on the road."

Charlie looked between the two of them. "You guys knew each other?"

"No, I was stationed up north."

Derek nodded along. "Presidio. I heard Bennet was old school."

The younger man bristled. "Smart enough to make the cut."

A little protective? Understandable. He saw that behavior a lot, young and old. The bonds of war were hard to break. Derek wasn't immune to it himself and he was one of the few that didn't talk about Connor like a fanatic.

Charlie was confused. "The cut?"

Davis needed to learn to keep his mouth shut. But before Derek could stop him, he launched into an explanation.

Connor wasn't just accepted as a savior. He earned his followers. It took a decade of fighting the machines and winning, where everyone else had failed, before people started flocking to him.

And so many tried and failed. Older and more experienced military types didn't think Connor was fit to hold a pistol much less lead an army. They played right into Skynet's hands.

As their dead piled up and they gave up hope, Connor acted. Some, like Bennet, were converted but most were too stubborn. You can't save everyone, not when they don't want to be saved. So they were left to fight and die, drawing Skynet's attention as Connor focused on shutting down the death camps.

Charlie's voice was shaken, his words slightly slurred. "Johnny did that? He let them die?"

That nearly set Derek off. People like Charlie didn't understand what the world was like after Judgment Day. Charlie might know about the machines, might have seen Cameron. But he didn't have to hide from them day and night or fight off other humans, driven crazy by hunger and fear.

_Johnny._

Derek didn't trust himself to stay any longer. "We should leave before that wife of yours gets home."

They had a mission to prepare for.

The chance to take out Skynet's air power was too tempting to ignore.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry if this chapter is boring. I needed to lay the last of the foundation for the story. From now on the events won't need to be laid out end to end as much. I don't expect everyone to agree with my take on the characters. But I try to make a reasonable argument for how I portray them. I feel that the characters are always on the verge of disaster because of the secrets they keep from each other. The purpose of the different point of views is that they show how the characters justify keeping each other in the dark. Feel free to disagree, feedback is always appreciated.


	6. The Mission

Story: The Unvoiced

Chapter 6: The Mission

Disclaimer: Again!? Fine. I do not own anything related to Terminator. I'm not making any money off this. Oh, and any names of people and companies are not intended to infringe on anything.

A/N: I want to thank everyone who is still reading this. I really wish I could update faster. I'm a little surprised by the TV show using the HKs. I originally thought of using Skynet's air power just because I wanted a target that would have military repercussions after Judgment Day. Thankfully, it strays from that path right away.

_Italics by themselves are thoughts._

Italics in the _middle_ of a sentence are for emphasis.

* * *

"Order up!"

The diner was busier than she expected.

Just outside of Los Angeles, it got plenty of traffic, mostly from truckers. It was nicer than most truck stop dives she'd seen. And she'd been in plenty. Still, when she'd been a waitress she would have hated to work there.

But none of that mattered.

They had a mission and a new target. John had sent back another one of his resistance fighters. The intel couldn't have come at a better time.

Time travel could be really convenient.

Last night, she'd expected to find the machine awake and patrolling. She was half right. She walked in to find it with John, sitting at the counter not speaking to each other.

Something had happened.

She never got a chance to ask about it.

Before she could open her mouth the machine had begun questioning her about the new resistance fighter. It had actually _prompted_ her. Sarah had to wonder, not for the first time, how close it was, or would be to John.

Time travel could be a real pain in the ass.

"You're not eating."

Sarah looked up from her plate. The machine was watching John as he listlessly picked at his food.

"I'm just tired."

Tired. The bags under his eyes made that obvious. And that would have been a good enough excuse. Except she couldn't remember the last time John wasn't hungry.

He was a teenage boy after all.

Cameron reached out tentatively, probably to perform another scan.

He shifted away from her. "I'm fine."

At least there was a rift between them now.

"Pills rough on the stomach?" Sarah asked.

John shook his head. "I haven't taken anything yet."

"You can take the stronger stuff now. Get some sleep on the drive up."

If Cromartie was still on their trail he would have closed in on them by now. And it wasn't like the triple eight could have predicted where they were going. Another advantage of intel from the future, it didn't leave a paper trail.

John nodded absently. But continued picking at his food, polishing off just enough to take the heavier medication.

Sarah returned to her own plate, digging into her pancakes.

They were good pancakes.

They ate methodically. Conversation was never a big part of their meals.

Until the machine broke the silence a second time. "John, I'm-"

"Later." John stood up from his chair. "I'm going to wash up."

He disappeared into the men's bathroom. The machine tracking him until he was out of sight.

Her appetite gone, Sarah pushed away her plate. "Let's go."

**

* * *

**

They were making good time, only 4 hours out of San Jose.

Sarah checked the rearview mirror again, purely out of habit. Normal. Light traffic. John was sleeping fitfully in the back.

Sleep sounded like a great idea. She'd gotten even less rest than John in the last two days.

She might have to let the machine drive.

Speaking of the machine, it suddenly spoke up catching her off guard. "John is angry with me."

"What?"

It was looking at her.

"John is angry with me." It repeated, only this time slower.

God. Talking to it was like pulling teeth.

Angry? No. John wasn't angry. He was hurt. Hurt because he kept thinking of the pretty girl who befriended him in New Mexico instead of the killing machine underneath. Maybe he'd finally start seeing things clearly.

Too bad the wake up call had to be a bullet in his arm.

"He's not angry." Sarah glanced at the backseat; lowered her voice. "And he'll get over it."

_He'll get over you._

Cameron abruptly turned away from her, eyes focused straight ahead. Her posture, already perfect, stiffened. "Then John is disappointed with me."

"What?" She said that a lot around the machine.

"John is withdrawing from me. He's disappointed."

Disappointed? That didn't sound right. She'd seen John act like this before, and recently, when he found the tape of her signing away her parental rights.

John had pulled away, closed himself off, because he was hurt. There wasn't any mystery to it.

But they'd talked it out, worked through it.

Sarah glanced at Cameron. The machine hadn't moved, hadn't acknowledged her in the slightest.

It was wrong. It didn't know a goddamn thing about John.

But there had been a certainty, a conviction, in her voice.

Something clicked.

It wasn't talking about John, her son.

It was talking about _him_.

Sarah was at a loss. It was always so secretive about anything relating to John in the future.

She went back to watching the road. "It's about trust."

Or the complete lack of thereof.

"John trusts me." Again, that certainty.

It might have been right. John probably still trusted it. More than he should have. More than it deserved.

But that trust was damaged.

"Should he? Should we trust you? When we know you lie?"

And it wasn't just about John.

Derek wanted it dead, destroyed. Sarah wasn't quite ready to jump into Derek's camp. They needed it. But the way it operated, constantly keeping them in the dark.

Sometimes the only thing that stopped her from melting it down was her faith in John. He sent her back. He knew what he was doing.

It was looking at her again. "I protect John. I've saved his life."

"Vick protected Barbara Chamberlain. Then he killed her."

"I would never hurt John."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Again, we should believe you? When we know you lie?"

It wasn't often she got to throw logic back in the machine's face.

It felt good.

Sarah pressed the issue. "You can't change. It's how you were programmed."

It was their nature.

It was programmed to lie, to keep secrets. Their unwavering commitment to their programming was their greatest strength. It made the T-1000 the most frightening thing she'd ever seen. That same devotion had made the T-800, Uncle Bob, the closest thing to a father John had ever had.

It's what made Cameron a lying manipulative bitch at her core.

"I can learn."

Learn. Right. Learn how to blend in, how to be a better infiltrator. A better killer.

What was the point?

The machine didn't get it.

"Fine. Figure out how to rebuild trust by lying."

At least that shut it up for the rest of the drive.

**

* * *

**

Their designated quarters were too small. The suite contained one interior bedroom and a fold out couch. The only windows were in the living room, on the same wall as the front door. That meant only one escape vector.

Cameron stood apart from the others, positioning herself next to the front door. It would grant her the greatest ability to confront any threat that entered the room.

"So we're not talking about actual aircraft, right? Just the interface?", John asked from his position on the couch. He looked tired. What little sleep he'd managed in the car had not been peaceful.

He woke up screaming.

Derek Reese and Sergeant Davis were standing. Neither seemed comfortable in her presence. That was not uncommon among the resistance. Even reprogrammed, most humans were afraid of her, many were openly hostile.

Among the whole of the resistance John was the only exception.

Sarah Connor paced back and forth behind the couch, indicating anxiety.

Davis was describing the objective and his mission.

"It boils down to Keystone Inc. and the project leader, Terry Anderson. It's his brainchild."

Cameron assimilated the information silently, redirecting a fraction of her processing power.

**TIER III MISSION PARAMETERS:**

**FIND PRIORITY SKYNET TARGETS**

**FACILITY: KEYSTONE INC. [RESEARCH CENTER]**

**CIVILIAN TARGETS: TERRY ANDERSON [PROJECT LEADER]**

**WARNING: TIER I [PRIMARY MISSION] CANNOT BE COMPROMISED.**

Her momentary distraction went unnoticed.

Derek was addressing Sarah. "After the bombs dropped. In the confusion, they tore through what was left of the military. They never had a change."

That was an accurate assessment.

Although incomplete.

Cameron chose to contribute, making eye contact with each person briefly, it was considered rude not to. "By Judgment day unmanned aircraft will make up a significant portion of America's military forces, particularly among short range bombers. They are eventually decommissioned and replaced with the Hunter-Killer drones. The HKs having greater range, are far more efficient at killing humans."

They stared at her.

"Did I say something wrong?"

No one answered.

John was the first to speak, but not to her. "How are we supposed stop them?"

"Would a virus work?" Sarah asked, still pacing.

John was already shaking his head. "We don't know how they're set up. We don't-"

"We could blow the whole damn thing. We've got the C4." Derek cut in.

Sarah never broke her stride. "We need more information. We need to get inside."

"We could find out, take Anderson hostage. We'd know everything." Davis offered.

Cameron determined that was a viable option. "The researcher's absence would draw attention. Our window would be limited to 24 hours."

Derek crossed his arms over his chest. "The Tin Can's onboard."

John shot Derek a cold look. "Even if _Cameron_ imitates the guy's voice, buys us another day it's might not be enough. Their back-up could be offsite, 2 states over."

Davis was quick to answer. "It'll be onsite."

Sarah stopped. "You're certain? We need to get everything."

"Most of our intel came from my old CO. He was a lieutenant then." He paused. "Or now. He was attached to the project. After Keystone got the military contract he got stuck behind a desk, liaison or something."

"We should attempt to destroy the research facility in one incursion." Cameron suggested.

Such an operation had a number of tactical advantages. Should a less destructive method fail, the company would be alerted to the presence. An increased security force was inevitable. And depending upon the time of attack, human casualties could be kept to a minimum.

John would like that.

"We still need to take out Anderson." Davis pointed out.

Derek nodded. "It's doable. Either split up-"

Sarah interrupted. "No. We're not killing anyone. We're not taking anyone hostage. We're not blowing anything up. Not yet."

Davis appeared surprised, maybe even confused, by the outburst. "They're building Skynet's army. We have orders."

Sarah's voice was tense. "And we're going to follow them. But these are office workers not soldiers. They don't know what they're doing."

This time Derek spoke. "Well you know what they say about the road to hell."

Cameron, in fact, did not know what they said about the road to hell. She did not even know who "they" were.

"That's enough. We watch the place. Find a way inside."

**

* * *

**

Cameron was unable to patrol. The limited space of the suite made it impractical. Patrolling outside would have attracted limited options,she settled for keeping vigil from the living room window.

Sarah was sleeping in the bedroom. Sarah claimed that she was unable to rest in such close proximity to her. Derek had left for the Keystone facility with the younger resistance fighter, having the first watch. Cameron would accompany Sarah for the second.

John had occupied himself by working on his laptop. Obviously exhausted, he refused to sleep.

Was he uncomfortable in her presence too?

That had never been the case before.

But John's behavior had changed since the school shooting. It might have been a result of the attack, a form of post traumatic stress.

He was withdrawing from her, interacting only when necessary. In many ways it was similar to how he acted in the future, when disappointed.

Was John disappointed with her?

An alarm sounded from the interior room. The sound of a human moving soon followed.

Sarah Connor was preparing to leave for her shift.

She had claimed that John no longer trusted her.

As if on cue, Sarah emerged from the bedroom carrying a large duffel bag. Setting the bag down with an audible thud, she scrutinized John. "You look tired."

"I'm okay. No need to hover."

Suddenly reaching out, Sarah pulled him into a hug. "Parents get that way when their kids get shot."

"Mom."

She shifted back slightly, looking him in the eyes. "Get some sleep."

John nodded. The increase of blood flow to his face indicated he was blushing.

He was embarrassed.

Taking a step away, Sarah gave a slightly nervous smile before quickly walking into the bathroom.

She was embarrassed too.

Physical contact had a profound effect.

A running faucet could be heard through the bathroom door.

They would be leaving shortly.

Given the nature of their object, she might not have another opportunity to speak to him for days.

"John."

She'd surprised him. "What is it?" While uneasy, he didn't avoid her.

That was a positive sign.

Cameron considered apologizing. But for what? Was he angry at her for lying to him? Was he disappointed in her for failing to protect him? Previous attempts at conversation had not ended well.

But he was talking to her again. She wanted him to continue talking.

"I did not understand Derek's statement. About the road to hell."

Whatever he had expected, that wasn't it. "Ah…Okay." He was silent for a few seconds. "It can be taken a couple of ways." Again, he paused. "But he meant that intentions aren't as important as consequences."

"Thank you for explaining."

John looked at her, his expression unfamiliar, and nodded. "I'm gonna get some rest."

That was a form of dismissal, albeit a polite form.

Cameron hoisted the duffel bag effortlessly over her shoulder. "Good night."

She had just reached the door when he called out to her. "Cameron."

Stopping, she turned to back to him.

He didn't speak immediately. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment, as if facing some inner conflict. Then he was watching her, searching for something."How's your arm?"

Cameron considered removing the bandage but decided against it. "The wound is closing properly. There is no functional damage."

Another extended pause. "Be careful."

Cameron smiled at him briefly.

It was a short walk to their vehicle. Cameron deposited the bag in the backseat before slipping into the driver's seat.

With nothing else to do but wait for Sarah, her thoughts turned to John.

He was being distant with her.

At times she seemed to make him uncomfortable.

However, their interactions had improved since last night. John was speaking to her again, if in a limited capacity. He answered her question, a question purely for her own sake.

He appeared to be "getting over it."

By all indications John would not impede her efforts to protect him. Such a relationship would meet her basic mission requirements.

That was not sufficient.

Before, John had confided in her. He had enjoyed her company.

Their relationship had changed.

But their relationship, now damaged, was not necessarily beyond repair.

John had shown irritation at Derek when he referred to her as a tin can.

John had also expressed concern over her wellbeing.

Cameron looked at her injured forearm. She had considered removing the bandage, revealing the current state of the injury to him. But the larger gashes had not completely healed; small glints of Coltan alloy were visible.

Her reservations didn't make sense. John had bandaged the injury himself, had seen the worst of it.

But for reasons she couldn't understand, she didn't want him to see her like this.

**

* * *

**

Derek could have used a beer.

That wasn't possible, not on mission. They'd wrapped up their shift an hour ago but the objective, the target, was looming over them. There was no telling when they'd have to act, and act fast.

They'd pulled a 6 hour shift and had nothing to show for it. It looked like a typical building, even down to the security. There were rent-a-cops, access cards, and metal detectors. The problem was the way they were set up and the sheer number of them.

Neither he nor Davis had seen any gaps to exploit.

It was weird, being around another resistance fighter again. Sarah and John knew about Judgment Day. They'd been through their share of hell. But it wasn't the same as talking to someone who'd actually been there.

Davis' story wasn't that different to his own, at least before Judgment Day. He had been a little younger when the bombs dropped, about 12. He even grew up in LA too. As for after Judgment Day, everyone's story was the same.

Surveillance is a lot easier with someone to talk to.

He tired to imagine what Sarah and the machine were talking about to pass the time and couldn't help but smirk.

**-KNOCK-**

That had to be John.

Just the same, Derek drew his gun and stood away from the door. A nod to Davis and the younger man quickly pulled it open.

Eyeing both of them warily, John walked into the room, his backpack slung over one arm.

He looked like crap and Derek wasn't known for tact. "You look like crap. Go to bed."

Did he even try to sleep?

John's voice was rough. "I tried."

Derek believed him. The walls at the old house were pretty thin. He knew John had plenty of nightmares.

He wondered if the kid would sleep at all after Judgment day.

"You said you were from the tech division. I need your help." John held out a clear plastic case with a computer chip inside.

The same one the metal had hidden from them. The same one that had killed his men.

Davis took the case, inspecting the contents. "Triple Eight? I don't have the rig for this."

John unzipped his backpack. "I do."

He'd planned this.

They set up on the coffee table. Davis looked over equipment and back at John. "What do you wanna to know?"

"Everything. But for right now, the symbols."

Davis sat down and started typing, testing out the interface. "We don't know everything about them. Not even the terminator's know what they mean, not consciously. It's past their limit."

John raised an eyebrow. "Their limit?"

"You're the one who started calling it that."

About 10 years from now.

Connor had been the one to teach the first tech junkies.

The limit. It was the point where the machines weren't aware of their own operations. Terminators could learn, adapt, but the "subconscious" level of programming determined how they adapted. It was outside of their control. The more advanced the model, the greater sense of a subconscious they had. They could adapt more but the shackles were stronger.

It kept them from rewriting their own code.

Skynet wasn't going to make the same mistakes as its creators.

Derek walked behind the couch, peering over their shoulders. This wasn't his thing. It wasn't something he'd ever master. That didn't mean he wasn't curious.

Know your enemy.

"It doesn't work like a human language. Each symbol in a series is a category, that's how they identify things. But we've learned some secrets." Davis continued typing, code scrolled across the screen. He hit another key and the text stopped. He pointed at the monitor. "This one is you. It's always you."

John stared at the screen. "I don't understand."

It was just one symbol.

No one did. But that symbol, when alone, was John Connor. And it showed up in everything relating to the resistance, every base, every unit, every other human being. Without exception, it was always there and it was always first in the series.

What the hell was going on in Skynet's head?

John had plenty of questions and as they worked Derek found himself paying more attention to John than the screen. He'd never seen him this determined before. It was almost like a hunger.

John hadn't been kidding about wanting to know everything.

And 3 hours later it was Davis who was showing signs of tiring.

He seemed like a different person.

Derek finally stepped in. "Time to call it a night. We're going back tomorrow."

John checked his watch, eyes widening. "No kidding. Sorry about that. I-"

Davis waved off the apology. "Just remember. This is what they really are. You can't trust them. Their only loyalty is to their programming."

The guy must have already picked up on it. It was obvious to everyone but John.

John seemed to stare into space. "Only loyal to the programmer." He murmured.

"Yeah, Skynet."

"Right." John finished packing his gear. "I've got plenty to work on. Thanks."

Then he was out the door.

Derek was wondering about the TV reception when he noticed Davis looked a little shaken. "Problem?"

The younger man shook his head. "It's just… he's a kid. I knew he'd be younger. But I didn't really think about it."

No kidding. Before coming back, Derek never imagined the great John Connor hadn't been born a hardass. He sure as hell didn't expect to be his uncle.

And he never thought he'd have to send John Connor to bed.

Except John now had so much to work on he might not sleep for a week.

Sarah was going to kill him.

His cell phone rang. Fishing the phone out of his pocket he checked the id.

Speak of the devil.

Figuring she'd be pissed at him anyway, if not now then later, he flipped it open. "Sarah, any luck? Hope I'm not interrupting. You know, the girl talk, braiding each other's hair."

* * *

A/N: I know some characters view each other harshly. But the story comes from specific PoVs so they are a little skewed in the character's favor. That factor works for and against everyone.


	7. A Leap of Faith

Chapter 7: A Leap of Faith

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Terminator. This work is not for profit.

A/N: I hope this chapter doesn't feel rushed. My schedule's gotten more demanding and I want to finish as much as I can before the season ends. And I'm hoping against hope that the character death I have planned doesn't happen in the show.

* * *

Over 200 channels and nothing to watch.

If he didn't find something soon he'd be forced to do something productive. On his day off.

What was the world coming to?

Not that he didn't have errands to run. At the very least he wanted to stop by the grocery store. It wasn't his turn to make dinner but he wasn't working today, Michelle was. It'd be a nice surprise.

Speaking of Michelle, she knew something was wrong. He hadn't told her about the last time he saw Sarah, Derek, and the other probably crazy guy with a gun. It was only by the sheer grace of god that she was dragged into a double shift that night.

But with the way he'd been acting since…distant, jumping every time someone rang the doorbell.

She was a smart woman and he was a bad liar.

The doorbell rang.

Charlie jumped.

He took a minute to mentally prepare himself for anything, scary robots, or more visitors from the future.

"Mr. Dixon. What's it been, eight years?"

Ghosts from the past.

Agent James Ellison hadn't really changed. He was a little older, maybe a little worse for wear.

Charlie moved aside. Ellison cleared the doorway when something caught his eye. "Hmm, I see you're a man of faith."

Tracking the other man's gaze, his eyes fell on the crucifix mounted on the wall.

"Oh no. My wife's a catholic. It's her mother's."

He wasn't a religious man. It wasn't because of his job. Being a paramedic had a tendency to leech a lot of that out of a person. It just wasn't part of his childhood.

Charlie sat down in the brown pilot's seat, his favorite chair, the one Michelle wanted to throw out. It was old, more than a little ratty, and familiar. It was perfect. He motioned for Ellison to have a seat. This wasn't like their last meeting. He wasn't in a police station being blindsided by a government agent holding all the cards.

This time he knew Sarah wasn't crazy.

The agent didn't appear to hear him. "Do you know the story of the rapture, Mr. Dixon?"

No he hadn't changed, same slightly condescending attitude.

Charlie didn't like where this was going. "Like I said, my wife."

Again, Ellison pretended not to hear him. "And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder. And I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, 'come and see'. And I looked. And behold, a pale horse. And his name that sat on him was death. And hell followed with him. The book of revelation."

And he still had a taste for theatrics.

Eight years and Charlie still didn't like him. He didn't hate the guy, not like he used to. But after their past encounter, he wouldn't mind if he never saw the agent ever again.

Time to cut to the chase.

Charlie hid his irritation as best he could. "What is this?"

Ellison smiled, as confident as ever. "I've seen some things, Mr. Dixon. I've seen some things with my own eyes, and heard them with my own ears. I've beheld. And upon my beholding, I've come to the conclusion, while new to me, might be old hat for you."

Definitely more than a taste for theatrics, the guy had a problem.

So much for cutting to the chase.

He didn't bother to hide anything this time. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"Sarah Connor's alive. And I think you know where she is."

Finally. For a man who claimed to have been converted, who wanted something, he was as demanding as ever. And a little stuck up. That probably wasn't the guy's fault. He'd made a career out of talking to criminals.

"You're crazy."

Ellison never missed a beat. "If Sarah is alive, and I believe she is, we are working in a realm where much, perhaps anything, is possible. Robots... soldiers from the future, Skynet."

That was one hell of a sales pitch. The confession, the complete reversal, took most of his anger.

But could he afford to trust the guy?

Charlie still didn't like him; didn't completely believe him.

Better to play this close to the vest.

"If... Sarah was alive, I'm sure she'd like to hear you say that."

If Sarah believed him. After a lifetime of being doubted, after actually being _committed_, Sarah didn't trust so easily.

Ellison wasn't buying it. "Come on, tell me what you know."

Damn. He really was a terrible liar.

Charlie had to admit he was tempted. Ellison was good at what he did. But they weren't old friends. They weren't even new friends. For all of the man's new found conviction… he had sounded just as sure of himself the last time they met, back when he'd said Sarah was insane.

The there was nothing left to say.

Ellison followed him back to the front door, a rueful smile on his face. He didn't look upset, not even disappointed. He was far too professional for that.

Crossing the threshold, the agent turned back, offering a business card. He was still smiling, though not nearly as self-assured. "If you change your mind."

Charlie took the card; flipped it over in his hands.

A world where anything is possible…

"So you believe her… the things she said?"

Ellison's expression was more patient. He was going for a lighter touch. "I might."

"What about John?"

"John?" He questioned?

"Yeah. What about the things Sarah said about him?"

Understanding dawned. Some of that earlier bravado returned. He smiled, nodded towards the crucifix.

"Mr. Dixon, I'll look to the Lord for salvation."

* * *

They'd been watching the place for almost a week.

It had taken a while to convince his mom to let him help. It was always a battle with her, whenever he wanted to get involved. He knew it was hard for her but it wasn't like he wanted to help storm the place.

The last time they'd gone after a company like this, it'd been Cyberdyne. John had to admit things had gotten a little messy.

He wasn't tagging along for this one.

"Here you go!"

Their waitress appeared. She was young, about 17, definitely in high school. And she had such a bubbly, perky, personality it was tiring just to watch. She refilled his cup of coffee and placed a bottle of water in front of Cameron. It took him a full five minutes to convince her to order it.

John took a sip. "Thanks. It's great."

It was a hell of a lot better than the freeze dried crap back at the motel.

The waitress flashed a mega-watt smile. "Tarrazu. Fresh pot." Resting one hand lightly on John's shoulder, she continued. "Can I get you anything else?"

She was very friendly. It must have helped with tips.

He smiled politely. "We're fine, thanks."

She smiled again and moved on to check the other tables.

John lowered his cup and noticed Cameron staring at the point of contact, his injured shoulder.

"My arm's fine."

It _was_ getting better. Not that anyone believed him.

He went back to discreetly watching the building, not that anyone would suspect a teenager.

He never saw Cameron stare at the retreating figure of the waitress.

He checked his watch, 11:40 AM. He'd picked the café because it was so close to the Keystone building. Someone from the company was bound to show up.

Turned out he was right. A group of Keystone workers had occupied the nearest table.

"Anything useful?" He asked.

Cameron was sitting next to him. While she wasn't angled towards the table, John didn't doubt she heard everything.

"Very little. It appears they have always rotated weekend shifts."

Not good. That would be a problem. But what could they do? They had their orders, except they weren't really orders. Nothing was ever that cut and dry when it came to his future self.

Davis made him a little uncomfortable. He was a decent guy. It was just hard to get a read on him. Then again, John could say the same thing about Derek and Cameron.

John had to admit, it was nice to be able to ask him questions about Skynet technology. Davis had information and was willing to share it. He wasn't used to his future self being so forthcoming. Future John was more the of the shadowy-puppet-master type.

John didn't like to think about what that made him.

"They're conversation consists mostly of complaints regarding their company. One of the workers is missing her son's baseball game."

John checked the other table. Two of the workers were looking in their direction. One of them, a woman who was probably old enough to have a kid on a team, noticed John and smiled briefly. Then, having more important business at hand; went back to speaking with her coworkers.

A baseball game. Probably little league, maybe a school team.

These were regular people.

Even Miles Dyson had a family. He never planned to end the world.

_The road to hell._

He'd thought about that a lot lately.

Derek had meant it along the lines of "shit happens." But Cameron would have wanted another explanation. The whole 'consequences over intentions' thing was the best he could do on the fly.

Miles didn't know his new processor would kick start the apocalypse. These employees didn't know their creations would be hunting down people in 4 years.

Could you blame them for the choices they made?

Could he blame Cameron for following her programming?

_Not again._

He'd been down this road too many times. He knew where it ended. He wasn't going to wallow in self-pity anymore.

He needed this, a mission, a target to focus on.

"Destroying the facility is a viable option."

John turned to Cameron. He hoped it didn't come to that. "We need more information. We're flying blind."

"A good plan today is better than a perfect plan tomorrow."

That was unexpected. Old adages weren't really Cameron's style. But she had a point. If they kept waiting for the perfect opportunity they'd be waiting forever.

John wasn't a big fan of them either. Still…

"Cameron. There are no absolutes."

He watched her process the statement. Her facial expression didn't change, not like a human's would have. But her eyes shifted down and away, then the slightest tilt of her head. Her eyes snapped back to his.

"That statement is an absolute."

John grinned. "I know."

He figured that might confuse her. So he spent the next 10 minutes trying to explain; that the contradiction didn't eliminate the statement's merit, that her own adage couldn't be applied universally. In the end she seemed to struggle with it but thanked him for explaining all the same.

And then she disregarded it entirely.

"Skynet will use its unmanned drones on the major population centers, not just military facilities. Successfully carrying out this mission would be devastating to Skynet's operations."

John sighed. "Right."

He couldn't argue with that. That's why they were here.

It was always like this, with Cameron or Derek. It was impossible to win an argument, not when the future was involved. They'd been there. They'd seen it. How do you respond to that?

Cameron surprised him again, this time by grabbing his hand.

She was performing another scan.

"I'm okay." He assured her. He didn't need her hovering too.

"I know." Cameron said softly.

She didn't let go.

John hoped he wasn't blushing.

"I know you're disappointed with me. I'm sorry I lied to you."

She was full of surprises today.

John squeezed her hand gently, as if he could hurt her. "Cameron. I'm _not_ disappointed with you."

He didn't know what to say. She'd never acted like this before.

And she wasn't done speaking. "Your behavior has changed. You speak to me less frequently. At times you are uncomfortable in my presence. Such behavior, while not detrimental to my mission, is unpleasant."

He was leaning forward, whispering. "Cameron, what are you saying?"

"I don't understand it completely." She squeezed his hand. "I want to be closer to you."

Now he was blushing. What was he supposed to say to that? He wished he could be that direct.

"Cameron, I-"

"Can I get you something to eat?"

Their waitress was back, with her ridiculously perky attitude and a pair of menus. John didn't know if her timing was a blessing or a curse. Well, he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. He was hungry.

And he may have been slightly grateful for the interruption.

But it was mostly hunger.

Seriously.

A notepad and pencil all but materialized in the blonde's hands. "Our specials today-"

Cameron never took her eyes off John. "No. Leave."

* * *

The rest of the afternoon had been less… eventful. They stayed at the cafe for another hour then headed back, making one stop for food. Their waitress hadn't come back to their table.

A quick detour to the local grocery store and John had enough junk food to tide him over for a few days.

John slipped the key out of his pocket; knocked twice and then opened the door.

His mom was standing next to the coffee table, pointing what John suspected was fast becoming her favorite shotgun at the floor.

She never minced words. "Learn anything?"

"Not much."

John walked to what passed for a kitchen, setting down his bag. Cameron had refused to let him carry more than one.

Cameron would fill her in. Not that there was anything to fill in.

John fished a bag of cheese puffs, the crunchy kind, out of the grocery bag. He was starving. Damn waitress ran off like a killing machine was on her ass.

Cameron set the other grocery bags on the counter. Methodically unpacking and sorting each item while reciting what they'd learned. "The rotating weekend shifts are not temporary. They do not like their boss. They have too much paperwork. One of the workers thought John and I make a cute couple."

John ripped the bag in half.

"John." She was grinding her teeth again.

He didn't turn around. Hoping his mother's vision was based on movement; he stood perfectly still and tried to blend in with the wallpaper.

* * *

"Soccer? Really?", Derek asked for… well who cared?

Davis rolled his eyes. "For the fifth time. Yes."

Five times apparently.

He'd been giving the guy shit for that all night.

"What were your parents thinking?"

Hey, surveillance was boring.

What else was there to talk about?

"Soccer's getting more popular. It's big now. In a few years everyone's into it."

"Soccer and Judgment Day. I never saw the connection before."

"Don't let the machines take your sense of humor, Reese. Just don't."

He always had a gift for getting under people's skin.

Nothing about their target had changed. Nothing ever changed this late at night.

Now would have been a good time to strike. The employees were long gone. There were two security guards in the lobby, possibly another on patrol. It looked like the janitors worked during the weekdays. That would keep the body count low.

Derek yawned.

He needed something to pass the time. Davis wasn't the most talkative person he ever met, sure as hell not the most interesting. His story was the same as every other resistance fighter he'd ever met. But there was one thing he wanted to know.

"How'd you end up in Connor's camp?"

Presidio was way up north. No one got transferred easily. And tech junkies were scarce, couldn't afford to waste them. They also had a bad habit of getting themselves killed when in the field.

Davis cleared his throat. "My bunker… it went to hell."

"Wiped out?"

"Close enough. Fucking metal was everywhere. Moved me around after."

Derek knew that story too. Secrecy was all the resistance had. Once Skynet had a bead on you, it was over. It didn't need the infiltrators. It sent the meat wagons, the Ogres, and HKs.

"We weren't gonna operate out of Presidio for a while. I got tapped for this. I'm here 'cause I knew Colonel Bennet. And he knew Anderson."

Anderson. The researcher. While Davis might have been talking about the intel, something in his tone said otherwise.

"Sarah. John. They don't have the stomach for this."

Derek shifted to face him. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I told you my mission. Destroy the research. Kill the man." Davis fidgeted with the 9mm in his hands. "For Anderson it doesn't end with the HKs. Two years from now he's in Washington."

In Washington… pushing the Skynet agenda.

There was only one way to deal with a threat like that.

And Derek couldn't truly disagree with him.

Sarah. John. They were stronger than Davis gave them credit for. But a job like this wasn't just a matter of strength. How far would you go to stop Judgment Day?

How many innocent lives were too many?

He knew Sarah, knew what she was capable of. She wasn't a killer. It was plain as day. Even when she was screaming at him, with murder in her eyes, he wasn't worried. Not that Sarah Connor wasn't dangerous. But she wanted her threats to sink in, to mean something to him.

No, she wasn't a killer.

The machine was the perfect example. No empathy. Eyes that looked but didn't see.

Derek knew Sarah had it in her. She could kill. And she would, if that's the way it had to be, only if it had to be. One more sacrifice for the sake of stopping Judgment Day.

John was a different story. He didn't have it in him to kill a man. This John still thought he could save everyone. He would at least want to try. It wasn't a bad thing, not in any normal situation.

This wasn't a normal situation. Their lives weren't normal.

"Blowing the place could change things. We don't know what'll happen."

Maybe he'd spent too much time with them.

"Might change everything." Davis agreed. "But he doesn't get the chance. Connor's orders."

* * *

A/N: I kind of reached with Cameron this chapter. But I figure terminators would take the direct approach whenever possible. Also, I didn't want to combine a plot that can be slow a times with both Cameron and John being completely oblivious to their own feelings.


	8. One step forward

Chapter 8

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. Damn, writer's block. There was a big chunk of time where nothing got done. I appreciate everyone who has stayed with this story. And I changed the title again; this will probably be the last time. I wanted something less pretentious.

Style notes:

Italics in a _sentence_ are for emphasis.

_Italics by themselves are a thought._

**

* * *

**

"We're getting nowhere."

Sarah raked her fingers through her hair. "Really Derek? I hadn't noticed."

They'd been at each other's throats all morning. Tensions were running a little high in the Connor home. Well, higher than normal. They'd set up in the living room, discussing their complete lack of progress. Derek sat at the kitchen counter, watching Sarah pace back and forth. Cameron stood next to the window, keeping watch or just staying out of their way.

Derek wouldn't let it go. "We know what we have to do. We're wasting time."

"We can't afford any loose ends."

Derek managed to get on her nerves on a good day. This was not a good day. She wished he'd gone along with Davis. But watching an office building didn't require two people.

"It's not that simple."

Sarah stopped and turned towards the kitchen. John was digging through the cupboards. Apparently planning an armed assault on a building couldn't stop him from ruining his appetite. He emerged with a bag licorice and having found his prize joined them in the living room, taking a seat on the couch. Cameron left her post at the window to join him, sitting obnoxiously close.

Derek brought her back to the task at hand. "You sure? It sounds simple."

John shook his head. "Not everything will be onsite." Before his uncle could interrupt, he pressed on. "I know what Davis said. But if it's Anderson's project. If it's his obsession, smart money says he works too much, even from home."

Men like that always did.

No loose ends, not like last time. They thought they wiped out everything. They tried. They failed. Skynet was still born. Judgment Day still came.

Derek didn't see a problem. "Then we get him at home. Use him to get inside."

And then kill him.

"Derek." Sarah sighed.

John broke in before an all out screaming match could start. "I found something else."

"What?"

"When we were on watch." He nodded towards Cameron. "They had a delivery from a company called J.E.C. I checked them out. They're a specialty supplier-"

Derek was not impressed. "So what? We already know what they're up to."

John hit a few keys on his laptop. "Their shipping records are online. Keystone's a major customer. But not all the deliveries are going to the main office."

"Where are they going?"

He turned his laptop around. "Here's the address. The delivery tags say R&D."

Sarah scrolled through the list. It looked like Keystone received deliveries a couple times a week but most weren't going to the corporate office.

John reclined against the couch and finished chewing. He never met a snack he didn't like. "We're going to be here awhile."

Yes, they were. No loose ends. Frustrated as she was, Sarah had to admit she was proud of John. For picking up on such a small detail, one she'd missed, and taking the initiative.

And he didn't talk with his mouthful. Also important.

"We need a supply drop, a safe house, and rally points."

Time to move again. They couldn't hang around the motel any longer, not without drawing attention.

"What about this place?" Derek asked.

That at least, was easy.

Sarah set the laptop down. "I'll check it out. Start doing recon."

In the next room, she grabbed the first duffel bag in sight. Then started packing her gear. She could swing by, size the place up. Then come back when it was dark.

John was right behind her.

"You're not going." She said before he could speak.

"It's not safe to go alone."

That was why he wasn't going. Without a doubt, John got his reckless streak from Kyle.

Honestly, she knew John could handle it. He wouldn't do anything stupid. But it wasn't worth the risk. It was never worth the risk.

"I can take care of myself." Sarah glared, tried to stare him down.

No effect. It was hard to intimidate someone when they knew you loved them.

She sighed. "Fine. I'll take Cameron. Set up the drop with Derek."

At the very least it'd get him away from the machine for a little while.

**

* * *

**

The facility was new. Sarah Connor stated that the paint wasn't dry. It was mostly likely another human colloquialism. However, the building did appear only recently completed.

Cameron performed a complete circuit of the building. It was a modest facility. A chain link fence marked its perimeter; electronic locks were visible on all the doors. But lacking any form of exterior surveillance.

She determined that the delivery bay on the far side, away from the street, was the best point of entry. There was no electronic lock, merely a padlock. After a cursory inspection, again detecting no security sensors, Cameron gripped the door with both hands.

Sarah gestured for her to wait. "Let's not leave our calling card. Pick the lock."

Lock picking wasn't a skill she'd been programmed with or bothered to learn.

"I like the direct approach."

Sarah produced the necessary tools. "Move."

Her tone indicated annoyance.

She was often annoyed.

Discretion had its uses. An infiltrator could appreciate that. However, in this situation Cameron had to question its merit. She now knew the exact nature of General Connor's orders.

Destroy the project. Kill the project leader. Sarah Connor's reluctance was quickly becoming a detriment.

However, she would have to overcome that obstacle later.

John had raised a more immediate concern. There was a significant chance that the project leader was working from home, if only in a limited capacity. All of his work, and that of the other employees, had to be destroyed before Anderson was terminated. And he would be terminated, whether Sarah or even John objected.

**TIER III MISSION PARAMETERS**

…**.FIND PRIORITY SKYNET TARGETS**

……**..DESTROY KEYSTONE INC.**

……**..TERMINATE TERRY ANDERSON **

**WARNING….TIER I [PRIMARY MISSION] CANNOT BE COMPROMISED**

**NEURAL NET EFFICENCY……..87%....[WITHIN TOLERANCE]**

Sarah stepped away and gestured to the door.

The door lifted smoothly and they entered what could only be the shipping bay. A forklift stood in the center of the room, abandoned. One entire wall had been converted into a shelf. Wooden crates filled the self space. Most were empty. According to their labels, Keystone purchased large quantities of sheet metal.

"What is this place?"

Cameron found Sarah had moved into the next room.

You couldn't accurately call it a room. The building itself opened into an expansive wall to wall workshop. Judging by its dimensions it took up most of the facility.

Cameron followed Sarah to the center of the workshop. The human was staring at one of the workstations in horror.

"This is an electronic discharge machine." Such a tool was designed to cut and shape metal, even the more exotic metals used in aircraft manufacture. It presented no danger while deactivated. Cameron studied the nearest workstations; each contained similar equipment. "This is an internal machine shop, capable of producing customized tools and parts."

"They're going to build the HKs here?"

"No. The equipment isn't suitable for full scale production. They will mostly likely manufacture parts to test their interface in a controlled environment."

"You got all that from a workbench?"

"No."

The information supplied by General Connor indicated this company was not involved in the construction of the actual aircraft, only the remote system. Everything she had observed confirmed it.

The work floor ended abruptly at a soundproof wall. It ran the length of the building, its only feature a pair of double doors.

Beyond it the hallway was flanked by a pair of offices on either side. Like the rest of the building the rooms were sparsely furnished, almost Spartan. Each consisted of little more than a computer and a desk. No personal effects. It appeared the building was quite new.

Or the occupants were not very sentimental.

The computers were a potential source of information. But ultimately, too risky. All sensitive information would be stored on a secure network. Depending on the company's security, simply accessing the computer might alert them. And any competent security system would track her activities. Were John present, he could have removed her CPU and given her direct access.

Cameron regarded her human counterpart, already at work searching the desks. Sarah lacked the technical skills required to assist her.

And Cameron did not trust Sarah Connor with her safety.

The hallway ended at two transparent doors, one 10 meters in front of the other.

An airlock.

Sarah laid a hand against the barrier. "And this is?"

The room was practically bare, only this time by necessity. There was no furniture, save for tables arranged along every wall. The walls themselves were in fact panes of glass running floor to ceiling. Faintly, at a volume difficult for even a cyborg to hear, there was a hum as the ventilation system re-circulated and filtered the air.

"It appears to be a controlled testing environment."

Cameron didn't bother to elaborate. From her vantage point she could see the tables weren't empty. Small items, mostly circuit boards, were laid out meticulously along every countertop. Cameron's optical sensors automatically enhanced the images, magnifying and committing each piece to memory.

"They are further along than we anticipated."

**

* * *

**

Derek was getting impatient. He did his best not to show it. Patience was something you had to learn in war. Everyone gets anxious before an op. But things you could do, tricks to help focus that energy. They kept you from driving yourself nuts.

He was running out of tricks.

It wasn't that he didn't understand Sarah's position. It was Anderson. The guy was going hand the world over to Skynet, without even knowing. No, he wasn't a Grey but he was close enough.

It didn't matter if he was working from home. Not if they were going to kill him anyway. The easiest way to do it would be to get him there. All they had to do was take his computer. And there was no way they could destroy that company and kill him without someone seeing the connection.

They were committed. It was time to act.

Sarah was still looking for another solution.

But it wasn't her call to make.

Too bad he couldn't come out and say it.

Things were getting complicated. He'd had to bring the tin can onboard. That had actually been the easy part. All he had to do was mention Connor's exact orders and the real threat Anderson represented. You didn't have to sell a terminator on the idea of killing. It probably would have done it anyway.

He knew he couldn't keep Sarah in the dark forever. She and John were going to find out. Maybe John could be kept out of the loop. There was no way his mother would let him in on the mission. So John wouldn't have to see him kill the guy. Derek was confident that John didn't know who killed Andy Goode. Sarah knew. She'd made that quite clear. Still, it looked like she kept that piece of information to herself.

Derek owed her for that.

John didn't know the first thing about Andy Goode or Billy Wisher. But knowing what he'd done; would have changed the way John looked at him.

Of course, she refused to admit Kyle's connection to John, _his_ connection to John.

Maybe they were even.

John walked in carrying one of the smaller boxes. "Last one."

"You know, you could have hung back."

One person could have handled this. And John was obviously favoring one shoulder over the other.

"I hang back enough. I wanted to do something. Know what I mean?"

Derek understood the feeling. He remembered what it was like to be a teenager back before Judgment Day, young and stupid. Back then his biggest concern was getting the new violent and bloody videogame. He remembered it involved fighting zombies. There might have been an evil corporation in there too.

"It's Cyberdyne all over again."

"What?"

What the hell was Cyberdyne?

John was kneeling over one of the crates, inspecting some of the gear. He picked up one of the assault rifles. He checked the sight. "You think mom's dragging her feet. That's why." Satisfied, he set it down, picked up another. "Cyberdyne was responsible for Skynet. We knew. We tried to stop it. We changed things. We didn't change it enough. Now we don't know where Skynet comes from."

Derek knew where Skynet came from. For what good it was worth. Billy was dead and the Turk was missing.

John set the last one down and closed the case. "She doesn't want to make the same mistake. Stop 'em here. Then someone else picks up the project and we're back at square one."

Derek understood that too. And he understood that John wasn't just voicing Sarah's doubts. John Connor, future savior of mankind and his nephew, was scared of screwing up.

Sometimes war was easy, family was hard.

They had all the information they could hope for. All that was left was to act on it. That was all you could expect from any soldier.

They were so close to Judgment Day, just a few years down the line. Even if someone else picked up the slack, a small delay could ruin Skynet's timetable. The payoff would be huge.

John pocketed a couple of clips. "Ready to go?"

"I'm right behind you." He gestured for John to go on ahead.

Derek packed one of the disassembled M16s for the road. It didn't make sense to leave everything. And if he ended up sharing a roof with the tin can it'd help him sleep at night.

With one last look, he stepped out and closed the door. It was a basic storage unit, in a nice enough area. Privacy was its major selling point. Derek fitted the door with a tamper resistant lock and pulled a small tube out of his bag.

"Superglue?" John peeked over his shoulder, amused.

He nodded. You could never be too careful. He put a drop of glue on the bottom hinge. So small you'd have to know where to look. "Yeah. If the seal's broken-"

"No, I get it. Neat trick."

Derek smirked. "I knew you'd say that. It's one of yours."

**

* * *

**

John hit another set of keys on his computer. His mother was out looking for a place to stay. To be honest, he didn't mind being left out of that project. Sometimes his mom enjoyed pretending to be a normal family. She'd ask all the normal questions. What were the local schools like? How far was the local shopping center? The landlords would tease him about all the cute girls he'd meet. Then they'd commiserate about the trials of raising teenagers.

This was Day 3 of her house hunting.

And he'd been so engrossed with Vick's chip that he didn't notice her leave. At first he'd expected to run into a brick wall at every turn. He assumed that Skynet's code would be so far advanced that it'd impossible to understand.

He was wrong, so wrong.

He was right about one thing. The technology itself, the processor, the code, was incredibly advanced. It was amazing; calling it efficient didn't do it justice. Every piece designed for a specific purpose.

But now, knowing how the symbols worked. So unlike any human language. A floodgate had opened. The code practically unraveled before his eyes. There was a beauty to it.

He wasn't working on the code today. His computer wasn't set up to hack the chip. But he'd backed up some of Vick's memories. Some of his memories, because the sheer amount of data was insane.

They were still disturbing.

Each memory was worse than the one before. He'd spent all afternoon watching the poor woman struggle to hold her marriage together. He saw her bear her heart to what she thought was the man she loved.

John closed the current file; sat back and rubbed his eyes. He needed a break.

"You look tired."

John's heart tried to lodge itself in his throat. "How long were you standing there?"

Cameron stood a few feet, behind the couch, a stack of paper in her hands. "This area is too small to patrol."

The entire time.

John waited for his pulse to settle back down. He wondered if the women in his life were going to be the death of him. Finally, curiosity won out and he gestured to the papers in her hands. "What're those?"

"They are schematics of the equipment found at the research facility. I prepared them for you."

That sounded promising.

He patted the spot next to him.

Instantly, she was at his side. She handed him the stack. He could feel the heat radiating from her body through the fabric of her T-shirt.

He cleared his throat and started leafing through the papers. They ranged from circuit boards to basic tools. There were so many of them. All drawn by hand, if you could really call it that.

"In the future you stress the importance of having the most accurate information."

John nodded absently. The less he heard about the great General Connor the better. He never enjoyed hearing about his future self. Lately, it had gotten worse. He chalked it up to Davis, having yet another person around who talked about General Connor in reverent tones. It went deeper than that but now wasn't the time.

Cameron was in a talkative mood. "They have a machine shop. Capable of shaping titanium, a major material of the first generation drones."

He didn't doubt that's what they were for. Everything was coming together. Leads from the future had a lot of advantages. But looking over the schematics, John didn't see anything concrete. Pieces like that could be used for anything.

Cameron was watching him so intently. Did she want his approval?

Was it possible to hurt her feelings?

He couldn't bring himself to say it.

_Say something dammit._

"Could you draw me a floor plan?"

"Yes." Without another word she retrieved a fresh stack of paper and set to work.

He expected her hands to be a blur of motion. Instead her actions were slow, deliberate. Her normally blank expression gone. She looked focused. Determined.

It had to be his imagination.

He wasn't sure how long he watched her before he felt like some kind of weirdo. He opened the next file, didn't bother with the audio. The now familiar layout of the Chamberlain's bedroom filled the screen.

The memory was different than the others.

She was happy.

Barbara Chamberlain laughed, silently. The T-888 opened a bottle of wine. He topped off Barbara's glass. The image shifted and Barbara was lying on their bed, eyes glassy. She was looking up at him, at Vick. One of Vick's hands, capable of crushing a human skull, caressed her face. She held his hand, interlocked their fingers, and closed her eyes.

Her lips were moving.

"That was effective."

He'd forgotten about Cameron again. "What?"

Cameron continued, "Touch is important to humans. Physical contact indicates closeness. The more intimate the relationship. The more physical contact takes place." Her eyes left the screen and settled on his. "When he touched her, I could see that she liked it."

Her tone was detached, clinical.

John shivered. "Yeah, that's… what she thought."

She thought Vick was her husband. She thought he loved her.

On the screen the frozen image of Barbara Chamberlain smiled back at him, filtered through Vick's HUD.

What did Cameron see when she looked at him?

Was he just like Barbara?

Cameron didn't give him a chance to dwell on it.

Moving his laptop she arranged the sheets in front of him and shifted even closer. Like always, her attention to detail was inhuman. Cameron leaned across him and pointed to... to something.

It was hard to focus.

Her hair smelled like black licorice, not the cheap shampoo that came with the room. Idly, he wondered if she'd packed her own, a very girlie thing to do. Cameron said something about testing. Before she straightened up and looked at him, waiting.

_Stall for time. _

John studied the floor plan for what should have been the second time. He might have to bullshit his way through the conversation. He faced her. Cameron hadn't moved. Her stare was intense, even behind a partial veil of hair. It never bothered her, never got in the way.

So, of course, he reached out tucked the lock behind her ear.

Cameron shifted, leaned into the contact.

John froze. A lifetime passed before he found his voice. "What's it like?"

They could feel, in their own way. They registered physical contact. Uncle Bob, the T-800, had said as much.

The data could be considered pain.

And Uncle Bob, for all he meant to John, was nothing like Cameron.

Cameron raised her hand, capturing his and holding it in place.

"The data is intriguing."

* * *

A/N: I always appreciate feedback. If you can't keep it constructive try to keep the language clean. On a serious, I'll try not to let a month go by between updates. No promises.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Good Intentions

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Terminator and this work is not intended for profit.

Author's Notes: I want to thank everyone who is still reading, especially everyone who is still writing their own fanfiction. I'm depressed about losing TSCC too. (Keep hope alive!) I hope the formatting came out okay. The document manager suddenly decided to be a pain in the ass.

* * *

Sarah took one last walk through the motel, making sure they had everything. Not that the machine was capable of forgetting anything. Force of habit. This was their life. Be prepared to disappear. Pay in cash. Don't use your real name. She could fit her life into a duffel bag and leave it behind if she had to.

It was time to go.

Derek was waiting for her at the door. "We need to talk."

He wasn't coming with them.

Because of the machine. Sarah couldn't say she didn't understand. It was hard for her too, sleeping under the same roof. But she did, for John. She'd hoped that… she wasn't sure what she was hoping.

It took her 3 days to find a place big enough for all 4 of them.

Derek cleared his throat; glanced towards the parking lot then closed the door. He turned back to her, squared his shoulders.

She knew she wasn't going to like this.

"Out with it Reese."

"It's about Anderson."

* * *

Cameron set the gun brush aside and inspected the Berretta for any signs of wear. She found none. She'd expected as much. John regularly maintained his sidearm, far more than necessary. Oddly enough, Sarah Connor shared the same habit. Perhaps it was a learned behavior.

John called it a coping mechanism.

Cameron reassembled the weapon. She didn't see how such an action would have a calming effect. She checked the sights. Her targeting system indicated they were accurate to within 2 percent. More than adequate for a human's precision. She made a slight adjustment, checked the sight again. Perfect. She reloaded the Berretta, pleased that it would function properly.

Cameron studied the weapon.

Maybe it wasn't the action itself.

She could explore that revelation later. Right now, the immediate concern was her patrol. Their new residence was considerably larger than their last. Between the 4 bedrooms and two levels she counted 12 potential ambush points.

It was unnecessarily large for only 3 inhabitants. Derek had chosen to reside elsewhere with Sgt Davis, under the pretense that such a large family, including two adult males, would draw attention.

They didn't like her. Cameron understood human interaction better than they give her credit for. Granted, neither made an effort to hide their animosity. Humans rarely did. Sarah only tolerated her for John's sake.

John alone treated her as something more than a tool. He found her attractive, obviously, as did most males. Yet, he appeared to care for her in a greater sense, possibly even more than in the future. This John was certainly more expressive.

"Absolutely not!"

Sarah's voice rang out distinctly from next room. Sarah and John were arguing. Again.

For two people who so readily risked their lives for each other, their arguments were quite heated. Human relationships, particularly between parent and child, were complicated.

It was another oddity that didn't pertain to her mission.

Cameron rose from the table. She would start with the second floor, taking advantage of the windows and their greater sightlines.

"What am I supposed to do all day?"

John sounded frustrated.

**ALERT: PRIMARY MISSION**

Halfway up the staircase, she froze. From her vantage point she swept the room for any sign of danger.

**THREAT LEVEL: MINIMAL**

Minimal?

Cameron reached the last step just as Sarah emerged from the hallway. John was right on her heels.

They were clearly agitated but otherwise fine, completely unharmed.

John's life wasn't at risk.

A false alarm.

**ALERT: PRIMARY MISSION**

Cameron swept the room again.

Nothing.

"I don't care! You're not going and no more hacking!"

Sarah brushed past her without a glance. She disappeared up the staircase. Somewhere above her a door slammed shut.

**ALERT: PRIMARY MISSION**

What was happening to her?

**

* * *

**

The light turned red. John checked for a tail. It was unnecessary. Cameron routinely checked for any form of surveillance.

**NEURAL NET EFFICIENCY……93%...**

**ANOMALIES FOUND……NONE…**

A limited diagnostic revealed no root cause for her programming errors. She was functioning at greater efficiency. But that did not exclude the possibility of malfunction. Terminators were designed to carryout a single mission, managing multiple mission priorities taxed her systems. Her efficiency was subject to minor fluctuations.

There was the possibility, albeit slim, that it was a self adjustment made by her adaptive program. However, there was no such thing as a minimal threat to John Connor, no shades of grey. She would perform a full system diagnostic later. All machines, especially one as advanced as herself, required maintenance.

"Your mother would not approve."

"No. Probably not." John agreed. The light turned green. "I was getting cabin fever. Besides, you're with me. It's safe enough."

Sarah Connor would say that no one is ever safe.

"Yes. You're safe."

He smirked. "Right."

The best place for John was with her.

John did not respond well to long periods of inactivity or even short periods. It was one aspect of his personality that would remain unchanged in the future. Cameron found the behavior both frustrating and endearing.

Humans required their own forms of maintenance.

So they had spent the day at the local mall, complete with movie theater.

She glanced sidelong at her charge. Their excursion had been a success. It was easy to determine, even without a physical scan, John was more relaxed. It was evident by his posture. She could hear it in his voice; see it when he smiled at her.

Cameron liked it when he smiled at her.

Two blocks down and on the left, Cameron spotted the Chinese restaurant.

She pointed. "There."

A few minutes later they reached their opened the door, placing his hand on the small of her back to guide her. Cameron found herself leaning into his touch.

The hostess, a middle aged woman, smiled warmly. "Two?"

She gestured behind her, indicating they should seat themselves. After a quick sweep John led Cameron to a booth in the corner.

Their hostess arrived shortly with their menus and a teapot. "I'll give you two a few minutes."

Cameron opened her menu. She would be expected to order food.

John grinned at her. "Don't worry. They serve group platters too. We'll order enough for two or three and take back the rest."

He had anticipated this. Cameron suspected he had ulterior motives regarding the leftovers.

Cameron closed her menu and watched to the televised dramas it was an appropriate time to engage in conversation. A list of potential topics filled her HUD.

Best to avoid shoptalk.

Something more casual…

"Did you enjoy the movie?"

He shot her a wry grin. "What are the odds? It was that or a chick flick. At least it didn't take itself too seriously."

The theater was smaller than expected. To say John was disappointed with the selection was an understatement.

"No it did not. The movie contained a number of inconsistencies."

John shrugged and turned back to his menu. "Parts of it were funny."

Indeed. Apparently a war between two machine factions on Earth was quite humorous. The audience had reacted favorably to the antics of the large robot protagonists.

John had laughed at the "guardian" robot's actions.

"John, do you believe such a bodyguard would be effective?"

The sheer destructive capability of the robots was impressive. And they possessed their own form of infiltration, albeit solely as vehicles.

"Would they what?" He sounded confused.

Understandable. The question was absurd. The movie was rife with mistakes. Its characters were fictional. Yet she'd spent the entire movie examining their strengths. Their behavior was erratic. Despite their size, several had been destroyed by general infantry. Skynet would consider them a liability and they were completely unsuitable for the resistance.

Cameron locked eyes with him. "Do you believe such a bodyguard would be effective?"

She _wanted_ John's opinion.

He stared at her for a moment, stunned.

Then he smiled.

"No, of course not."

* * *

John paced the length of the fence, checking for any problem areas. His mom wanted him to set up the security system. There had to be something more important to do with his time. Right now he'd settle for less boring. But boring didn't equal unimportant.

It didn't change the fact he was being marginalized.

His mom and Cameron were out on mission. What exactly that meant, he had no clue. They were gone when he woke up. All he had was a note saying when to expect them back and nothing else. That was his mom's idea. She was still angry about him going AWOL the other day. She was going to keep treating him like a child until she got it out of her system.

She knows it drives him nuts.

She wanted to get a reaction out of him. That made him angry. Angry at her for taking a cheap shot. Angry at himself because it worked. That had to stop. Best to not react, take the high road.

John smirked.

Plus it would drive her crazy.

But seriously, he didn't see why it was such a big deal. She'd given him less grief for the whole coltan fiasco, when he climbed into the back of the shipment. He understood her anger over _that_. Even if he still thought he made the right call. He'd put his life in danger. Why was this in the same ballpark? Or universe? He went to a movie, stopped at a restaurant. And he wasn't alone. Cameron was with him the whole time.

Dinner.

Movie.

Did… did he take Cameron out on a date?

If his mom thought he'd-

Did he?

The patio door opened and John nearly gave himself whiplash turning so fast.

Davis walked out and lit a cigarette. He caught sight of John and nodded. John caught a glimpse of Derek in the kitchen. He was making himself right at home, routing through the fridge.

The two of them had been scarce lately, more than usual. John had to admit he missed having Derek around. He wasn't the easiest guy to talk to. Their attitudes clashed, especially when Cameron was around. But John honestly liked Derek. And there was so much John wanted to ask him.

At least the tension level had dropped a notch.

The mission, everything about it, was taking its toll on them, pulling them apart at the seams.

"John."

Speak of the devil.

Derek poked his head out the back door. "That fridge is bare. I'm going for food." Good call. The leftovers were long gone.

"Can you grab a pack of cigarettes?"

An absent nod, a wave of his hand, and Derek was gone.

Davis raised the soda can he was using as an ashtray. "Your mom a little uptight about smoking?"

"Guess so."

It was kind of recent thing. She never used to care. It wasn't so long ago that she'd smoked a pack a day. But now, she'd give him hell if she caught him with a lighter.

"My mom was the same way. My dad smoked, tried to hide it. I think he watched my soccer games just for the opportunity."

"You played soccer?"

Davis narrowed his eyes. "Problem?"

What the hell? Touch a nerve?

John started cautiously. "No. I grew up in Mexico. Everybody plays soccer."

Davis eyed him warily then nodded. "Just checking. I played in a house league in Palmdale."

John let the conversation drop.

Dear God, he was a lighting rod for dysfunctional people.

He surveyed the backyard again. It was a big yard. Plenty of room for a dog. John smiled. That'd help with security. Yeah, right. His next job would be hiding a furnace in a tool shed.

Then he caught Davis watching him discreetly.

John raised an eyebrow. "Should I leave?"

Guilt flashed across the older man's face so quickly it might have been his imagination. "Sorry. It's… weird. I knew you'd be younger but not this young." He shook his head. "You're what? Seventeen?"

Sixteen. In two weeks.

"I see your point."

Skipping a couple of birthdays might have had a hand in that.

"I never worked under you. The resistance was already too big. Bennet's squad led the assault on my camp. He was a lieutenant." His tone changed, turned almost melancholy. "I was younger than you. I didn't know a goddamn thing but I was old enough to hold a gun. Followed them around ever since."

It was the first time John truly felt comfortable talking about the future. There was something about how open Davis seemed just then. Everyone around him guarded their secrets so closely.

And his stories didn't all revolve around General Connor. For once _the_ future wasn't just _his_ future.

Davis took a longer drag then blew a smoke ring. "John Connor. I met you once. You did all the talking. You've got the intense stare down. The scars help."

Scars?

John had never thought of that. He always imagined one day Skynet would catch him. And it would be over. The shooting at school should have opened his eyes. If the bandage wrapped around his arm was any indication there were going to be a lot of close calls.

Would he end up a battered old man, or even young man, limping along? Barely able to function?

Davis must have read it on his face.

He laughed. "Don't worry. You're pretty spry for a guy your age." He dragged three fingers down the left side of his face and directly over the eye. "Don't know how you got 'em. Plenty of rumors though." Another drag. He grinned. "My favorite, you killed a T-600 with a hunting knife."

And for some reason John couldn't explain he felt a little better.

John grinned back. "I needed a knife?"

Davis laughed again, louder.

The conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence until John heard a car pulling into the driveway. Too soon for Derek. John peeked over the fence just in time to see his mom slam the car door and cut a B line for the house.

"Something's up."

Davis called after him. "Keep your guard up on the left."

His mom was standing in the center of the living room, already impatient. She cut right to the chase. "We've got a problem. Where the hell's Derek?"

"He's picking up dinner."

"Well…good. Anyway-"

"The police are asking questions." Cameron interrupted. She'd sidled up next to him.

Sarah glared. "Right. Apparently suspicious people are hanging around." She didn't bother going into detail, just pulled out her cell phone and disappeared into the hallway.

That was the last thing they needed. They didn't know for certain if they'd been made. It might be completely unrelated.

It didn't matter.

John knew how Derek would react. He'd want to move on the place, be more aggressive. Davis would be onboard.

What would Cameron think? Terminators weren't known for being timid.

He turned to Cameron. She hadn't moved. John smiled at her nervously. She smiled back at him. She wasn't acting differently. Standing there, maybe a little closer than normal, so close he could smell her perfume.

Perfume?

* * *

A/N: Sorry this took so long and it was kinda short. A lot of things ended up on the cutting room floor or moved to the next chapter. I should have that one out much sooner. And I hope it doesn't detract from the story but I've put in a running gag where every movie John sees involves machines fighting humanity.


	10. End Act I

Title: Good Intentions

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Terminator Franchise and this work is not intended for profit.

A/N: Another short chapter. A very short chapter. Unfortunately, my schedule is going to be a little hectic for a couple weeks. But in a good way. Rather than wait around I decided to post something now. Call it what you want, an interlude, half a chapter, or half assed.

* * *

57....58….59….60

He raised his hand, knocked a second time and continued waiting.

11….12….13

The door opened, revealing a woman with blonde hair. "Can I help you?"

Michelle Dixon, wife of Charlie Dixon, married for 3 years.

"My name is Robert Kester. I'm with the FBI. Is your husband home?"

"Um… yes. Come in."

She was surprised. Of course. Michelle, like most humans, appeared to be uncomfortable in the presence of law enforcement.

He had only just entered their living room when Charlie Dixon appeared; a dishtowel draped over one shoulder. "Sweetie, who is it?"

"Charlie Dixon?"

The question was purely for the sake of his cover. Names, addresses, pictures, were all available to him through the bureau. Cromartie had already committed the relevant information regarding Charlie Dixon to memory.

"Yeah." The human male's mood changed, becoming suddenly guarded. "You are?"

"I'm Agent Robert Kester, with the FBI." He held up his badge briefly. "Do you have any knowledge as to the whereabouts of Sarah Connor."

Michelle gawked at him in disbelief. "Sarah Connor? The woman from the bank bombing?"

Cromartie didn't bother to look at her. "Yes."

Charlie was silent.

"Why would we know anything about her?" She asked, incredulous.

Again, his focus never wavered. "Mr. Dixon was once engaged to Sarah Connor."

And Charlie Dixon was a paramedic.

9 days had passed since the school shooting. There were a total of 7 gun related injuries reported by hospitals in the greater Los Angeles area. None of the victims matched John Connor's description.

The odds of Sarah Connor having contacted Charlie Dixon were extremely high.

Charlie Dixon finally found his voice. "That was a long time ago."

8 years. However, from Sarah Connor's perspective less than 3 months had passed.

Humans often relied on the familiar.

Charlie's continued silence indicated discomfort. Michelle was pointedly looking everywhere except her husband. The topic appeared to be a source of tension between the two of them.

Perhaps that could be exploited.

Charlie Dixon might have been lying to him, protecting them. If such was the case it was likely he was lying to his wife.

Michelle Dixon might prove to be a better source of information.

Cromartie knew he was running out of leads. The school records had supplied nothing of value. As aliases went John Baum barely existed. The home address and all other contact information on file were fabricated.

And he had been so close.

His systematic search of the local high schools had proved fruitful. He had stood within 20 meters of John Connor. But if he was honest with himself, and self-deception served no purpose, Cromartie had to admit he had been fortunate. Humans called it luck.

John Connor had made a mistake.

The deception, sending another student in his place, had succeeded. Yet Connor had revealed himself. Connor was careless, as if oblivious to his presence.

John Connor was not known for being careless.

All terminators knew of John Connor. All terminators possessed the same priority override protocols, regardless of their assigned mission. But Cromartie was different than most, terminating John Connor was his primary and sole mission. To that end he was better equipped than a typical terminator. He possessed the full extent of all information pertaining to his target. Known associates, tactics, habits, everything Skynet could gather. Most importantly, he possessed a complete psychological profile, pieced together over a lifetime of fighting the man that would lead humanity.

Connor's behavior did not conform to established patterns.

As a teenager John Connor was unlike the resistance leader that was Skynet's bane. Some differences were to be expected. Connor was younger, less knowledgeable. He was weaker in this form, vulnerable.

Vulnerable. But not helpless. Connor had reacted quickly after being taken by surprise, and while injured. Many human soldiers failed, fell apart under the same conditions. Then Connor eluded him in an enclosed area, a location that worked to his advantage.

This version of Connor was different. He would need to be treated as a separate entity.

And he wasn't alone.

Sarah Connor would have to be dealt with. Ironically, she was the greatest risk to John Connor's safety. John Connor did not appear to be actively involved in the fight against Skynet, making him almost impossible to track. But Sarah Connor was. And she had an extensive criminal record.

Sarah Connor wasn't the only complication.

The reprogrammed infiltration unit, alias Cameron Phillips, was by his side. She represented a significant obstacle. He had the advantage in terms of size and strength. In most confrontations the odds were in his favor. But there was no guarantee of a level playing field, especially if the Connors would support her. More importantly he could not pursue John Connor if she was present.

He needed to isolate the target.

Cromartie gave Mr. Dixon what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It wasn't. And he attempted to ease the tension in the room. He failed. Charlie's posture remained unchanged, feet planted shoulder width apart, arms folded across his chest. Pushing any harder would not be productive, best to diffuse the situation while he had control over it.

The cyborg produced one of his business cards. "If you remember anything, should she attempt to contact you. I never sleep."

Charlie didn't reach for it.

"I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told Agent Ellison. I know nothing about Sarah Connor."

Unlikely.

Michelle took the card instead.

"Goodbye."

The door slammed shut behind him with unnecessary force.

Any assistance from Mr. Dixon would not be voluntary. He was still emotionally attached to Sarah Connor. Such a connection might work both ways. If Mr. Dixon wouldn't lead him to the Connors, Mr. Dixon would have to lead the Connors to him.

With no further business, Cromartie returned to his vehicle. He had other issues to resolve. Mr. Dixon had, unwittingly, provided him with important information.

Agent James Ellison.

Agent Ellison had investigated Sarah Connor extensively before her supposed death in 1997. He was currently investigating the murders of both Dr. Fleming, cellular growth specialist, and Dr. Lyman, a plastic surgeon of some renown. It seemed inevitable they would cross paths.

He needed to consider new tactics.

* * *

Cameron prepared for her first patrol of the night. She removed the Mossberg from underneath Sarah Connor's bed and replaced the buckshot rounds with slugs. She didn't know why Sarah insisted on keeping buckshot on hand. The scatter effect would prove useless against a terminator.

Both the front and rear entrances were locked. The windows were closed and the motion sensors were functioning properly. With the lower floor secured Cameron moved on to the second floor. She stopped in the open doorway of John's room. She found him lying on his bed staring into space. His laptop sat on the floor, abandoned.

Her patrol could wait.

John had been extremely reticent since her return. Cameron padded into the room, stopping at the foot of his bed. While aware of her presence, the future leader of mankind didn't react. He continued staring at some unseen object, his lips drawn into a thin line. Cameron watched the steady rise and fall of his chest.

She could be very patient.

"I want to talk to Anderson."

That was unexpected. But John was notoriously difficult to predict.

"That would be dangerous."

"Thanks mom." He remarked dryly. "That's not what I meant. We should convert him."

That wasn't possible. More precisely, it wasn't an option.

John closed his eyes and sighed softly. "We know where, we know when, we know who. But if we don't handle this properly…"

He was drawing a comparison to Cyberdyne. Miles Dyson's name had come up several times since their mission briefing. John often spoke to her about the assault on Cyberdyne Systems. Or he would 20 years from now. It appeared to be a source of regret.

John's hypothesis was flawed, his understanding of the situation incomplete. Anderson was or would be a traitor, a Skynet supporter. He had to be killed.

She couldn't admit that. Not without compromising her mission parameters. And refuting John's position outright would never convince him. This situation would require a lighter touch.

A distraction then…

Cameron sat down on the bed. The mattress dipped and John tore his eyes away from the ceiling. He stared at her and after a moment's confusion, scooted over. Cameron lay down next to him, closer than the full size bed required.

"It would be very dangerous. Wecannot give Anderson a chance to contact the police."

But John wasn't going to let it go. He had made his decision. "Whatever happens, whatever choice he makes, we can still give him that choice."

No they could not. They would not.

She reached for John's hand, entwining their fingers. "Yes."

He squeezed her hand in reply.

Touch was important to humans.

Pleased with her answer, John went back to watching the ceiling. He absently ran his thumb across the back of her hand.

Cameron closed her eyes, turning more of her processing power to the tactile sensations. Tactile sensation was a rudimentary part of her programming. Her system continuously received input from the millions of nerves in her synthetic skin. The data, from the mundane to weapons fire, was immediately identified, dealt with, and then discarded.

It was different with John, when he was the source. The data stood out like a flame. And it lingered long after the contact had passed.

Touch was important.

"Cam."

Her eyes opened. Somehow, John had turned onto his side without her notice. He reached out, cupping her cheek, and lightly brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. He stared at her with the same intensity that would be the doom of so many of her kind. And she felt a wave of heat against her synthetic skin.

Then he kissed her.

* * *

"He always comes this way."

Sarah didn't respond. They hadn't spoken much since the motel, when he told her what the real mission was. She was angry. Derek knew it. And he knew that they couldn't just talk it away. He'd lied to her, kept her in the dark.

There wasn't anything left to say.

Derek took it all in stride. If he was uncomfortable, it didn't show.

A silver Lexus, fresh off the lot, with tinted windows rolled by, stopping at the light.

"Right on time."

Derek waited for the light to change. He let Anderson pull ahead before hitting the gas.

Two lights down, they hit the onramp.

Derek was giving the car a big lead. They could afford it. They knew where it was going. Davis already had the address. They might have already tailed the guy before.

20 minutes of driving down an empty freeway and she saw their exit. It was too dark to get a good look at their surroundings. But they had to be out of the city proper. Derek backed off even more.

Sarah checked the mirrors. All clear. It was just them and the man they were going to murder.

That was the plan the entire time.

She wanted to hate Derek. For lying to her. But angry as she was she couldn't hate him.

These were orders from John, not her son but the leader of the resistance. The man Kyle trusted, the man Kyle would have died for. If anyone knew what was necessary…

It didn't make her feel any better.

John had been right beside her, at Cyberdyne. He stopped her from killing Miles Dyson in full view of his family.

But it wasn't her call to make.

She didn't like the taste of that.

At least Derek had told her, while he still had the choice. That counted for something. Not much, but something. She wasn't going in half blind. That kind of deception… she'd never get past it.

Derek pulled over and killed the engine. They watched Anderson's car continue down the street. It was an affluent neighborhood. The houses were big, not mansions by any stretch, but the type of place they didn't belong.

It made her think of Charlie.

At the very end of the block, on the corner lot, he turned into the driveway and disappeared behind a second larger vehicle.

So they waited. They had nothing but time on their hands. When they finally crept up to the house Sarah wished they hadn't. The lights were on, someone was home. While the curtains were drawn, blocking her view, there was no doubt about it. They were in the right place. The Lexus was sitting in the driveway.

And parked right next to it, just as shiny and new, was a beige minivan.

She'd seen enough.

Sarah spoke for the first time that night. "Not here, not in front of his family."

Derek didn't argue. "I've got a place in mind for an ambush."

He turned the car around.

Even Derek Reese wasn't completely without humanity.

* * *

A/N: This might be my shortest chapter yet. But it served a couple of purposes. I wanted to get something out before my schedule goes completely to hell for a while. And it's a good breaking point between story points. The flow of the story is going to change a bit and I didn't want to deal with that in a single chapter.


	11. Act II So it begins

Story: Good Intentions

Chapter 11: Will the foreshadowing never end?

Disclaimer: Again?! Fine. I don't own anything related to the Terminator franchise. This work is not intended for profit.

A/N: If you're still reading these updates…well you obviously haven't learned from past mistakes. Why start now?

* * *

"Well? We ready to move on this?" Davis asked sharply.

They were gathered around a secondhand table in what passed as the dining room of their shoebox apartment. He and Sarah had wanted to go over the plan with Davis as quickly as possible. John and his pet terminator would be brought up to speed later.

"Pick Anderson up here." Davis was pointing to the ambush site. "Six hours later we hit the building."

Derek had to admit he wasn't used to seeing Davis push so hard. Not to say Derek didn't understand his frustration. It looked like Derek wasn't the only one getting impatient. There was a line between being prepared and being indecisive. And it felt like they'd crossed that line a week ago.

Sarah all but glared at Davis. "We need to check the house too."

She was stalling.

Derek decided to step in. "Easy. Watch 'em for a day. The kids have to go to school. Mom has to leave sometime."

Sarah turned her cold stare on him. "So it's that simple?"

Derek matched her stare. "It's that simple."

Derek wasn't used to seeing this side of her.

"I can handle it."

Their attention went back to the other resistance fighter in the room.

At their silence he went on. "You really want to send the machine? This sorta thing… it's kind of why I was sent."

Sarah looked over at Derek. Funny, as much as the two of them fought…

He caught her glace and nodded slightly. "He's right. It'd kill Anderson's wife and kids in a heartbeat."

Not that it had one.

Derek knew it would get the job done but the tin can's potential for "acceptable loses" didn't sit well with any of them. No. It had to be Davis. The tech was sent back with a specific purpose, just like his team. General Connor would have made sure he was prepared. He was too controlling not to.

Derek watched the struggle play across her face. "It's what he was sent back to do."

That statement and everything it implied-

It's what General Connor wanted.

It's what _John_ wanted.

-finally got through to her.

Sarah sighed. "If you find anything, ransack the place. Make it look like a robbery."

Derek started to argue but let it go. Even if it they made it look like a robbery, they'd be under the gun. They had to grab Anderson, clean out his house, and destroy the research. And once they grabbed Anderson the clock would start ticking.

Better to move on.

Derek looked down at the map spread out on the table. He pointed to the intersection he wanted to use. It was just off the freeway, not quite in the residential area. "We should put the machine at the ambush."

With a narrow road and light traffic, taking an unarmed civilian wouldn't be a challenge.

And putting a bullet in the back of his head wouldn't be either.

* * *

He was kissing _Cameron_. The Terminator sent back in time to protect him. John was kissing her and if he didn't know it was impossible, he'd swear she was shy. She might have been shy but not unwilling. He could feel one of her hands resting on his bicep. The other held a loose fistful of his shirt.

Cameron's actions weren't perfectly human. Her touch was too steady, too planned.

Of course, without knowing she was a machine he never would have noticed. But John knew. He knew what she was.

And he didn't care.

John pulled back slightly. One of them needed air.

He stared down at her, idly playing with her hair. He loved her hair. Her eyes were closed. Her face flushed, lips parted. She looked like any normal girl, any normal beautiful girl.

"Cam." He breathed.

They needed to talk about this. If this was a line they were allowed to cross.

Her eyes opened. "John."

He watched her silently, trying to find the right words.

Then she tugged gently on his T-shirt, not enough to draw him towards. But the message was clear.

"John."

* * *

"I'll brief Cameron. John doesn't need to know about this."

Not a problem. They sure as hell wouldn't say anything. And metal was always good at keeping secrets.

Derek almost said it too. But it'd been a long night. The sun would be up soon. Sarah was still struggling with everything they'd agreed to, steeling her resolve. Right now, both of them could use a rest. He could get some sleep. Sarah could go home, check on John and not then sleep.

Derek watched Sarah fold up the map and pocket it. Grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch, he searched for the car keys. They'd tailed Anderson together. She'd end up taking the only vehicle he and Davis had access to if he didn't drive her back. They'd have to steal another. And they couldn't risk bringing down that kind of heat down right now.

It was really inconvenient, not living under the same roof.

It was also a lot less tense.

And it wasn't just being away from the machine. It was easier being around Davis, another resistance fighter. Similar experiences, similar mindsets, meant everything went a lot smoother. If there was an argument, they had rank and a chain of command to fall back on, even if it was only the two of them. It was almost familiar, like being part of a squad again.

Being around John and Sarah wasn't easy. Usually it was awkward. He had no idea how to act around John. He and Sarah were at each other's throats often enough. But it wasn't always like that. Sometimes John was just a kid who wanted to know about his dad. And the connection was just there. They didn't have to work at it. Then there were the times with Sarah, when they weren't arguing, that weren't so difficult. The future wasn't as hard to face when you weren't alone. It almost felt natural.

And then he'd think about Kyle and feel guilty.

He pulled on his jacket and waited at the door. "Ready to go?"

* * *

She should finish her patrol. Cameron's HUD displayed the current time, indicating she'd spent almost the entire night with John. A strict patrol schedule wasn't an absolute necessity. Normally, with such a small area and limited points of entry she would take position at a choke point. Either way, she was overdue.

John asked her to stay with him.

Cameron reconsidered the tactical situation. Their alarm system was armed. She would hear anyone before they reached the second floor. A quick survey of the room assured that her shotgun was within easy reach, under her discarded shirt. And John's Beretta rested on the nightstand. Should there be a threat she would be in the best position to see to John's safety.

Her logic was… incomplete, at best. Neither option, staying or leaving, bore a significant advantage over the other.

She didn't want to leave.

Cameron had never wanted anything before. Staying wasn't part of her mission. But it was important to her.

Cameron laid her head against John's chest. His heartbeat was slow, steady. She shifted slightly to see his face. The faint lines of stress under his eyes, known as "bags" among humans, were still visible. John had terrible sleeping habits, a combination of insomnia, nightmare, and their lifestyle. It was one problem that would plague him throughout his life. But for tonight he was sleeping well, his features relaxed. He was happy.

John was happy because of her.

Cameron liked that.

Her interactions with John had improved steadily over the last few weeks. Yet, they didn't have sex. John had chosen not to "go any further". Did he disapprove of her in some way? Was she unfit for his needs? It was possible. Most humans despised the machines. All humans feared them.

It was also possible John was looking beyond a purely physical relationship. After all, he asked her to stay. John was comfortable enough to sleep in her presence, touching her, letting her touch him.

That was significant.

Humans were very confusing. It seemed they rarely took the most direct path to obtain what they desired.

Perhaps he was exercising patience. That was not to be expected from a typical teenage male.

John Connor could not be described as typical.

* * *

It was a long and silent ride back to the house.

Someone needed to say something. They needed to talk, about the mission and the lies. She wasn't angry anymore, at least not as angry. Derek had lied to her. He knew the full scope of Davis' mission and he kept it from her.

Hell, the machine had been better informed than she was. They'd brought it up to speed before her.

All three of them had kept her out of the loop.

And Sarah Connor was good at holding a grudge.

They pulled up to the house. Sarah stepped out of the car, slammed the door, and walked away.

Silence was definitely the way to go.

The house was completely blacked out. That was expected. Sarah didn't bother to look at her watch. Even John would be asleep by now. The sun would be up in a couple hours.

She looked over the porch and the front door, mostly out of habit. Nothing was out of place. Again, as expected. They'd gone really low profile since they got to town. Sarah quietly eased the door open. Safe or not, announcing her presence was too stupid to even consider. It was even darker inside the house. Sarah groped around blindly for the keypad. By the time she found it her eyes had adjusted.

With the alarm disarmed and rearmed, Sarah shrugged off her jacket and started upstairs. It was late. She was tired. She'd hammer out the last pieces of the plan later.

For now she'd check on her son, maybe even sleep.

They'd save the world in the morning.

She ran into Cameron at the top of the staircase, shotgun in hand.

"A little slow on the response time are we?"

The sarcasm was lost on the machine.

But where had Cameron been? Sarah hadn't noticed it before but the cyborg would usually be in the room by the time she closed the door, most of the time already pointing a weapon at her.

"I heard your approach. I continued patrolling."

Of course it did. The cyborg must have spent all night walking through the house.

Sarah rolled her eyes, another useless gesture. "Were you now?"

"Yes. I also checked on John. He's sleeping peacefully."

Sarah clenched her jaw.

"Focus on the mission." There was flicker of… something in the machine's eyes. Sarah continued. "We're moving on Anderson."

"We're going to kill him? Now?"

God it sounded almost _eager_.

"Not right now. Soon."

If everything went well, maybe tonight.

"We'll pick up Anderson when he drives home." Sarah brushed past Cameron. She should have said more, about the ambush site or their timetable. But she didn't want to talk to anyone right now, let alone the machine.

She stopped in front of John's room.

Cameron took three quick strides towards her. "John's sleeping." She repeated, her normally soft tones were even quieter.

"I heard you the first time."

It made no move to leave.

"Don't you have a patrol to finish?"

The machine fixed her with a blank look. Then it turned and padded down the hall. Sarah waited for Cameron to disappear from sight before reaching for the doorknob.

She needed to check on John, to see him with her own eyes. She didn't like the idea of leaving John alone with a terminator. She wasn't blind. Whatever affection that existed between them, completely one-sided of course, was growing. John trusted her. He trusted it. That was one conversation they couldn't put off forever.

But the thought of Cameron checking on him…

She stood there, her hand closed over the knob.

She needed to check on John.

Her hand fell limply at her side.

She should check on John.

Sarah couldn't could face him, not tonight.

Lying to John didn't bother her, as bad as that made her sound. She was used to it. It was a natural part of the life they led. Telling John about Anderson, that they were going to kill him wouldn't accomplish anything. John would disagree. The fact that he sent back a resistance fighter for this mission wouldn't matter. No, John would only see the short term. He wouldn't listen to reason.

Keeping him in the dark was for the best.

Lying to John wasn't the problem.

The problem was her.

And the problem was John.

She knew John's destiny. She knew the burden he'd carry. Every day was a struggle to make sure he'd became the man the world needed.

But that was where her thoughts ended.

Future John was more of a shadow, an abstract, than anything else. She'd never thought about him as a real person. She thought about the future constantly. But in her mind the future meant Judgment Day. There was no day after Judgment Day.

John was her son. Despite what he was supposed to be, what she was trying to make him. It was hard to think of him as anything else. It was harder still to think of him as a leader, giving orders.

It was the kind of puzzle that the human brain wasn't built to handle.

* * *

The warmth from where Cameron had laid beside him, just moments ago, was starting to fade.

She'd sneaked off as best she could but he'd still woken up. She didn't make any noise. Maybe the bed dipped a little more than you'd expect from someone her size.

It wasn't her fault.

John always woke up. Even when he was a kid growing up in the jungle, and his mom would check on him. He usually didn't notice her approach. But every time she'd end up fixing his blanket or stroking his hair and then she'd have to leave. That was when he'd wake up. No matter how careful she was John always woke up.

It was something about the sudden lack of warmth, the emptiness left behind.

So he'd pretend to sleep. He would act like he didn't notice.

John rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

So why did he pretend this time?

Judging by the time Cameron had stayed as long as she could, like he asked her to.

She was almost at the door when he opened his eyes. And he couldn't think of anything to say.

Things were getting complicated.

He almost slept with her. He certainly wanted to. And the ease of the admission scared him.

So why didn't he?

Cameron didn't seem to object, quite the opposite. If what he saw in Vick's memories was any indication she was definitely capable.

What was he waiting for?

John didn't expect his first time to be magical. He'd grown up around soldiers and criminals. Some of the places they lived in actually had brothels. And he couldn't ignore the long line of men in his mother's life. They had knowledge she wanted. She had a body they wanted.

No, he didn't expect it to be magical.

He couldn't quite find the words for it. But he needed to know whatever their relationship was, where ever it was going on, was more than her mission.

He thought he heard a muffled voice coming from the hallway.

John closed his eyes, strained his hearing.

"-John-"

Someone was out there.

He couldn't make out enough to follow the conversation, just the odd word here and there.

It had to be his mom. Derek wouldn't show up this late without a damn good reason.

And if whoever was out there didn't have a reason to be there, Cameron would have killed them already.

Someone stepped in front of his door blocking the light that seeped in beneath it. It was definitely his mom coming to check on him. It was an old habit. Just like staring at him while he slept.

John shifted to the center of the bed and laid down. The smell of Cameron's perfume clung to the pillow. He hoped she wouldn't get close enough to notice.

He closed his eyes.

And waited.

.

.

.

The door didn't open.

Finally, his curiosity won out. Opening his eyes, John stared at the door.

The light streamed through the opening at the bottom of the door, unobstructed.

No one was there.

Something was wrong.


	12. Hear No Evil

Story: Good Intentions

Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Every damn time… I don't own anything related to the Terminator franchise. This work is not intended for profit.

A/N: I want to thank everyone still reading, those brave few. I'm a little surprised with how this story is panning out. I didn't expect there to be so much John/Cameron interaction. Granted, I knew I had to explore their relationship and it was fun bringing them together.

* * *

"So what do you think?"

John wanted to modify their security system. Laid out before him were all the components and tools he needed to construct the additional sensors.

"Your proposed layout is a notable improvement."

He was not being as productive as he might have been. His attention was split between her and the task at hand. Cameron found she didn't mind the drop in efficiency. John was opening up to her, at times asking for her input. The behavior was very similar to how they would interact in the future, how her John interacted with her before she was sent back.

It surprised her how much it, this closeness, meant to her.

John continued working for several minutes before standing up from the table. "I thought I had more photocells. I'll be right back."

"I'll get more." Cameron offered. She wanted to help. It was important to her, that John could rely on her.

She began to rise when John placed his hand on her shoulder. "I'll grab 'em." He looked over the table. "And more wire."

He leaned towards her and Cameron lifted her head for a soft kiss. John pulled away slowly.

He smiled at her before walking back towards his room.

Cameron watched John disappear around the bend in the staircase. She continued to watch the now empty stairs when she heard the front door unlock behind her. Cameron turned back in time to see Sarah Connor enter with two brown paper bags.

Sarah's eyes fell on the cyborg. "Where's John?"

"Gathering parts."

Cameron picked up a piece of the remaining wiring. She began cutting it into appropriate sized pieces for the motion detectors. And after finding the stripping tool proceeded to partially strip the wires.

"We're going after Anderson tonight."

That made sense. Cameron had expected they would carry out their mission soon. "When will we kill him?"

"Not until I say so!"

Cameron continued to strip the wiring. One less task to occupy John's time. With it completed, that time could be spent with her.

Sarah was standing next to her now, glaring. "You hear that?! Anderson doesn't die until I say so." She waited. "Answer me!"

Of course Cameron had heard her. Cameron's hearing was calibrated to that of a normal human. (Like her vision, her hearing could be enhanced. But reacting to an inappropriate noise could compromise an infiltrator's cover.) More importantly, she was not prone to human lapses in hearing.

Cameron didn't bother to share that information.

Sarah Connor was prone to high levels of stress.

And she was in some ways ignorant.

Sarah Connor's behavior was familiar to her. In the future misplaced aggression often manifested in abusive behavior directed towards the converted machines. The behavior didn't make any sense. The machines could not be intimidated. Some soldiers realized the futility of it. Most of them didn't. And most didn't want to change.

Cameron suspected Sarah would choose not to change her behavior.

Fortunately, John did not share such an attitude.

Cameron set her tools down. She made eye contact with Sarah. That would help placate her.

"I understand. But the mission is clear. Anderson must be killed."

"I know that." Sarah snapped.

Sarah took a deep breath. "Don't tell John. He doesn't need to know."

"That would be best. John would not understand."

* * *

Derek took stock of their supplies.

It was not a pretty sight. The cache he set up in LA would have covered them.

Here they had a limited supply of C4. They couldn't afford to be generous with it. Hopefully, it was enough to take out the servers in the main office.

On the bright side, it wouldn't take as long as he'd expected to pack it all.

After that he'd have nothing to do but wait.

That was the hardest part of any mission, the calm before storm.

Derek's phone started vibrating. He checked his caller ID.

Davis.

There was only one reason for him to call.

So much for the bright side…

They were about due for another problem.

Derek raised the phone to his ear. "What's wrong? We need to clean out the house too?"

Davis sounded as tired as he felt. "No. But it's going to make things complicated."

Derek almost groaned. "Perfect. What now?"

As Davis started to fill him in Derek started locking up the room. He'd come back later. The weapons would have to wait. It was time to pass the good news along to Sarah.

If this was the calm he didn't want to see the storm.

* * *

John stared at the half finished sensor in his hands.

Cameron nudged him gently with her shoulder. "John?"

"Sorry, little distracted." He picked up the soldering iron. "Hold here."

He was acting weird. He had to pull it together before someone noticed.

Flashback

John made it to the top of the stairs when he remembered the extra cells were in his pocket. He thought about just turning around. It would be a little embarrassing, not that Cameron would care.

He did need more wire.

It was a weak excuse but he'd take it.

"Where's John?"

He stopped. Mom was back, hopefully with lunch. If they were going to hang around here any longer they needed to stop living off fast food. Someone had to go to the store. That'd probably end up being him.

"Gathering parts."

He was hungry. And it was a good time for a break. Later he'd hit the nearest grocery store, maybe bring Cameron along.

"We're going after Anderson tonight." His mom sounded… resigned.

"When will we kill him?"

Kill Anderson? They didn't know if it'd come to that yet. But Cameron sounded so detached, like it had been decided a long time ago.

The answer was immediate. "Not until I say so!"

There was moment of silence. John crouched down on the second floor landing. His mother started shouting again. "You hear that?! Anderson doesn't die until I say so." Another pause. "Answer me!"

Not until she said so. It wasn't a matter of if anymore, just a matter of when.

Cameron's voice was soft but unmistakable. "I understand. But the mission is clear. Anderson must be killed."

"I know that." He heard his mother snap.

So that was it. The real mission. Destroy the research. Kill Anderson. No gray area. And all this time he thought… what did he think? That they had a choice? That if he tried hard enough they would listen to him?

No the path was clear. It always was. He was just the last to know.

John didn't know how long they kept it from him. He couldn't be sure. But he did know one thing. Cameron had known. Last night, when she was with him. He asked her if they could give Anderson a chance.

She said yes.

"Don't tell John. He doesn't need to know."

_Of course I don't. _

_Why should they tell me? Why act like I have any right to know?_

But whatever anger he felt, the next line stole it from them.

"That would be best. John would not understand."

Slowly and quietly, he backed away from the stairs.

He didn't know what to think anymore.

End flashback

They didn't need more sensors. Not for the layout he wanted to use. But it was the only excuse he could think of, the only distraction he had. It meant he didn't have to face Cameron, didn't have to meet her eyes. Sometimes she could be too perceptive.

_Act casual John. _

He couldn't be too direct.

_Hey, Cameron. Are you hiding something from me?_

_Are you secretly planning to kill someone behind my back?_

No, he couldn't just ask her. But then he didn't need to ask. He already knew the answer. It was a matter of testing her.

_Here goes._

"Where's mom?"

"She went to pick up medical supplies."

He knew that. She left over an hour ago. But it got the ball rolling.

"Things are going to get exciting."

Cameron agreed. "Yes. Soon."

No kidding.

_Don't push too hard._

John finished the motion detector and handed it to Cameron. She inspected it then set it aside. He forced himself to complete another piece before speaking again. "You'll give him a chance right? Anderson."

"I will inform him about the future and the role he will play."

She would _inform_ him about the future.

That wasn't a yes.

As he considered Cameron's answer, or lack thereof, she leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder. He thought he could feel the heat of her skin through his T-shirt. It was an action that would have sent his heart racing.

Like she did last night… the last time he asked her.

John relaxed. He rested his head against hers.

This time his heartbeat was steady.

He voice was almost a whisper. "You'll give him a choice, and if he flips you'll let him go?"

John closed his eyes, silently daring her.

_Lie to me!_

And she did.

"Yes. I will."

Cameron was a good liar, a great lair. She didn't hesitate, never missed a beat. And it wasn't a lie of omission or a half-truth but an outright lie.

And John knew why.

Cameron had lied because of him, his future self. She would always lie if it was what he wanted.

She would always choose his future self, _her John_, over him.

John focused on the tools in his hands. He should have felt betrayed. He should have been angry. At the least he should have felt hurt. John thought about Jordan's death and how Cameron refused to listen to him. And he thought about Cromartie. Cameron didn't tell him Cromartie was in the building. She thought he'd do something stupid. He was angry after both incidents, hurt after both incidents. But he wasn't angry this time.

He felt calm.

John smiled at her. "Thanks Cam. That really means a lot to me."

She'd already dug herself into a hole. Might as well throw dirt over it.

Okay, so he wasn't _completely_ calm.

Cameron laid her hand gently on his arm. "Not a problem."

No. It wasn't a problem for her.

_I don't want John to know._

_That would be best. John would not understand._

Cameron was wrong. He understood, more than they gave him credit for. He understood why they would kill a man who hadn't actually committed a crime. That part was easy. The ends justified the means. And if all of humanity was at stake, you could justify anything. Any crime. Any atrocity.

Cameron, Derek, even his mom, believed it.

Someday he'd believe it too.

John took another look at Cameron and flashed what he hoped was a convincing smile.

She smiled back. A soft, perfect smile, like the girl he met on the first day of school.

It wasn't quite so beautiful anymore.

* * *

"So how do we find him now?"

Davis had filled them in. The house had nothing, at least nothing technical. But there was plenty of information. He'd gotten as much out of Anderson's computer as possible.

Sarah had to admit, Davis was good.

Everything he found was spread out in front of her. And no one would know he'd been there. There were plenty of emails, printouts from his day planner. Davis even found a photo of Anderson with his family. It was the first time she'd gotten a good look at their target. Keystone had underground parking and Anderson didn't leave his office much. But Sarah had caught a glimpse of him once. He'd been walking back from one of the nearby restaurants arm and arm with a petite blonde haired woman. Judging by the way she was smiling in the photograph, arms wrapped both of the kids, they were married.

Sarah set the photo back onto the table.

Face down.

More importantly, for the mission, they had a ticket confirmation. Turned out Anderson had a plane to catch.

Tonight.

As bad as it was, for what seemed like the first time in her life they caught a break. Anderson was supposed to leave last week. He'd pushed his flight back twice so far. The VP of Operations wanted to speak with him. He was getting a new assignment. The guy was nervous. Optimistic (his department was _so_ close) but nervous (there had been obstacles). He didn't know what the future had in store for them.

They did.

This was the big promotion, the one that would put Anderson in the driver's seat. He'd steer the company right into the bright post apocalyptic future.

Unless they stopped him. If they could find him. They knew his flight. Getting him at the airport wasn't an option. There was too much security these days. They'd end up all over the news.

But that was all they had.

They had no idea where'd he'd be at any given moment. Anderson didn't have a schedule anymore. He was too busy putting out fires. He wasn't even going home to pack. There were meetings in and out of the office. Problems at the machine shop; apparently the foreman was an idiot. And however many other emergencies popped up at the last minute because they always did.

John locked eyes with her. "You mean how do you kill him now."

Sarah struggled to collect herself. "John-"

"That's the plan right?" He said flippantly.

Derek stepped in. "That's the mission. Deal with it." He said harshly.

John wasn't ready to back down. "Just following orders?" He looked at her, Derek, and Davis, in turn. "It's okay to _murder_ someone for trying to do their job?"

Murder. Premeditated and in cold blood.

Cameron's voice was soft. "Intentions are irrelevant. Only actions and results matter." And cold.

_The road to hell…_

The machine was agreeing with Derek.

It made sense, the pure logic of it. Derek could be almost as cold as the machine. And these were their orders, handed down by John in the future.

It still turned her stomach.

She wasn't sure how to react. Judging by the look on Derek's face he didn't either. It was almost funny.

And John…

His face was unreadable. Whatever was going on his head was closed to her. As she tried to get a read on him he turned away from her, staring into space.

Something was happening to him, ever since the whole incident with Cromartie. Every day he drifted a little farther away from her. But she'd been too busy chasing down Skynet to do think about anything else.

How the hell did he find out?

This was the last way she wanted him it to happen. They needed to talk. She just didn't have time to deal with it, not now. God. How many times had she said that in the last 2 weeks?

How many times had she said that in John's life?

But the fate of the world was at stake.

"So what do we do?" Davis asked. He seemed anxious.

That was the question.

Once Anderson left the city he'd be out of reach. All their intel from the future was based around San Jose. They'd be as blind as anyone else. Then there was security. After 9/11 they wouldn't get to walk around the country's capital without attracting attention, not in the circles Anderson would be moving in.

And none of that would matter anyway. Keystone was about to lock up the military 'd be too late. As far as they were concerned Skynet's army would be on the assembly line.

Davis was the first to offer a solution. "He has a family. We could-"

"No." Sarah's answer was automatic.

Derek rolled his eyes. "We don't exactly have a lot of options."

"No." It was a line she wasn't ready to cross yet.

Sarah looked to John for support. Whatever support she hoped to find there didn't exist. John was staring at the ceiling, pointedly not looking at any of them.

It hurt.

Maybe she wanted a little bit of approval too…

There was more silence. Then John spoke, his voice tight. Controlled. "How well does Anderson know Bennet?"

"Pretty well. I don't think they liked each other much. But they met regularly."

John's face was still a mask. "If we imitated Bennet's voice could he be lured out?"

Davis looked thoughtful for a moment, uncertain.

"I cannot imitate Bennet's voice. I have never spoken to the Colonel." Cameron sounded almost apologetic.

John didn't look at her. He kept staring at Davis. "Don't suppose you know his phone number?"

Davis shook his head. "Never came up."

What the hell could they do?

They were running low on good ideas.

She'd settle for a bad idea.

Maybe Derek was right. Maybe they didn't have any other choice.

Suddenly, John stood up and started walking away. Cameron watched him silently. Sarah looked at him, waiting for some sort of explanation.

Nothing.

He didn't so much as glance at her.

Later. She'd talk to him later.

Davis suddenly spoke up. "Bennet might actually work. Don't have his number but I can find him. He lives in this area." They looks they gave him must have been skeptical. "My group operates out of this area- or we will." Davis corrected himself. "Lot of time spent hiding from the machines, telling stories."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "So you just bump into him? Record his voice?"

"Yeah. I'm not saying it'd be easy. But it's doable. We could even try to convert him." Davis continued. The idea seemed to be gaining momentum in his head. "This mission will hurt Skynet, not kill it. Why not make another contact? And he's hooked into the military."

It sounded good. Another person with military experience would really help. True, it sounded like Bennet was more of a paper pusher than a commander. But if he was looking at the right papers… If he was in loop about military contracts and new technology, he'd be invaluable.

Derek wasn't sold. "You go around telling people about the end of the world, you end up in a padded cell."

Sarah would have been angry but she knew Derek wasn't trying to get to her. He didn't know about her time in the madhouse. "Literally."

It was a pipe dream.

Davis wasn't done with his sales pitch. "I know a lot about him. The kind of stuff you only tell your squad." He nodded at the machine. "And we have proof.

* * *

Derek was running out of things to do. He'd finished reloading their weapons. But they didn't have much in the house to begin with. He should have been at the weapons stash getting the rest of their supplies.

Someone had to stay behind, in case things went south with Bennet. 10 years from now the guy was one of their people.

Simple truth: Today he wasn't.

Davis wanted to make first contact. Alone. He didn't trust the machine not to kill the Bennet. Derek had to admit the odds of that were low. Just the same. Never trust a machine. It's like having a wild animal on an invisible leash.

And Sarah Connor wasn't going to sit this one out.

So here he was, with nothing left to do but raid the fridge. He entered the living room and saw John at the table sorting through a mess of electronics. He had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

"Going somewhere?"

John didn't stop shifting through his equipment. "Don't know. You guys haven't told me yet."

"Good attitude John. Real mature."

Now John looked at him. "Am I wrong?" He challenged.

John went on, his tone changing, sarcasm dripping off of every word."I meant to say: since we're going to blow up a building, kidnap a guy, and murder him tonight, it might be a good idea to pack."

Okay, kid had a point.

And he wasn't done. "I'm sorry if I'm making things difficult by finding out what's really going on."

Derek had had about enough.

He wasn't going to apologize, not for doing what was necessary. And he wasn't going to have this conversation with John today. Some days you have to get your hands dirty. John was going to have a lot of those days in the future.

He needed to grow the fuck up.

"You know what's at stake. The ends justify the means."

John smiled to himself, like it was an inside joke. "Like they do this time?"

"Like they always do."

John zipped up his duffel bag. "Just like they did with Andy Goode?"

That wasn't something he expected.

John knew. All this time he tried to keep it a secret, worried what John would think of him if he found out.

And he already knew.

But John didn't know everything. John was thinking about how Andy was dead and how they were still looking for the Turk. John didn't really know Billy Wisher, the man Derek fought beside for years. John didn't know what they'd faced together. Billy was like a brother to him. John had no idea what it was like to kill someone you cared about. John didn't know how much it hurt him, what he went through, what he sacrificed to win this war.

John didn't know a damn thing about him. He wasn't going to be judged by anyone, especially not by a goddamn teenager.

"I don't answer to you."

* * *

A/N: Like I said, it was fun bringing John and Cameron closer together. It'll probably be more fun pulling them apart. Reviews, comments, and criticism, are always appreciated.


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